


Where Did All the Physics Go?

by amireal



Category: No Fandom, Star Trek: The Original Series, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Crack, Crossover, Friends to Lovers, Handwaving, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-29
Updated: 2009-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-03 23:44:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amireal/pseuds/amireal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But that's just not possible! Where did all the Physics go??"</p><p>Poor Rodney, he was never meant to work in these sorts of conditions. In which the author indulges herself far too much but learned that if you take the insanity on the chin and pretend it's all okay, the plot hangs on. Mostly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Did All the Physics Go?

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I was adamant about not telling the crossover fandom, I still am, but I just don't have the energy to create a work around. I still think the surprise is worth the effort though. 
> 
> A timeline note: This takes place in the era between V and VI and they're wearing the rust red uniforms.

Thanks to [  
](http://chopchica.livejournal.com/profile?style=mine)[**chopchica**](http://chopchica.livejournal.com/?style=mine)  
for the beta, for I am a surly and unthankful bitch.

"Everyone out! Out out out!" Rodney  
yelled.

 

 

 

The room smelled of ozone, burnt  
plastics, and other materials Rodney could name later when he wasnt running for  
his life from the glowing, smoking Ancient device. Sheppard was right behind  
him, the last out of the blast range, making sure everyone else made it through.

 

 

 

Rodney stopped just long enough to grab  
Sheppard around the arm and pull, which was how, his legs already heavy from  
exhaustion, he managed to trip over the nearest heavy object.

 

 

 

He fell to his knees and his lungs  
compressed, leaving him out of breath. Something heavy hit his back and a grunt  
of pain sounded in his ear. Sheppards weight pushed him to the floor just as  
the first flash nearly blinded him.

 

 

 

They curled up, shading their eyes,  
huddled together as the flashes got brighter and faster. Rodney was sure there  
was the vaguest resembles to Japanese TV.

 

 

 

Eventually there was nothing but the  
light and Sheppards body next to his holding him down. The floor seemed to  
disappear for endless seconds until finally they landed.

 

 

 

His head spun and the thought of  
opening his eyes was nauseating, but Sheppard was dead weight on top of him and  
it was starting to get suffocating. Rodney pushed feebly, his arms giving way a  
few times before they worked correctly. Then suddenly the weight was gone and  
there were helpful hands under his arms, hauling him up into a sitting position.

 

 

 

A loud whirring sounded in front of his  
face and he cracked his eyes open, only to close them again as the beam of light  
pierced directly through his skull.

 

 

 

"Thats it, son, keep your eyes  
closed," Carson's gentle voice admonished, its cadence soothing.

 

 

 

"Youre fine, just kicked around a bit.  
Im going to see to your friend."

 

 

 

"Colonel?" Rodney gasped, "Is he okay?"

 

 

 

"Give me a minute, and Ill let you  
know."

 

 

 

Rodney realized that it wasn't actually  
Carson speaking to him - the voice was distinctly Southern. He opened his eyes  
slowly and looked around. Gray walls greeted him and he squinted, looking for  
the muted, rich colors of Atlantis, but there wasnt a stained glass panel in  
sight.

 

 

 

Several people walked in and out of his  
sight line, tall people with lots of deep crimson and gold highlights and   
no.

 

 

 

Rodney shook his head, headless of the  
disorientation and squinted again, pointing to the nearest one. "You, whats  
your name?"

 

 

 

The man turned around and smiled the  
most easygoing smile Rodney had seen since Sheppard. "You can call me Jim."

 

 

 

Rodney shook his head again, whipping  
it from side to side and hoping the jarring would shake something loose and make  
the hallucination die a vicious death. "Oh no. No I cant." His limbs scrambled  
out behind him as he backed away in some sort of demented crab crawl.

 

 

 

"McKay!"

 

 

 

He spun; taking about a half second to  
be grateful that Sheppard was okay enough to be annoyed with him. "This has to  
be some sort of big Ancient induced acid trip."

 

 

 

Sheppards eyes were wide and his skin  
pale. "I sure hope so, because otherwise this has just gone past the amount of  
weird crap I have to deal with in the course of a week."

 

 

 

Rodney nodded frantically. "You!" He  
pointed to the doctor examining Sheppard. "Whats your name?"

 

 

 

The doctor looked up and narrowed his  
eyes. "Are you always this polite to people who are trying to help you?"

 

 

 

Sheppard nodded. "For McKay that was  
downright congenial."

 

 

 

"Name!" Rodney ordered again, voice  
getting embarrassingly higher.

 

 

 

The doctor gave them a withering look  
and had just opened his mouth to answer when the wall-- no make that the door--  
whooshed open and really, Rodney should be used to that from Atlantis. Still,  
the noise made him jump.

 

 

 

Both he and Sheppard looked at the  
newcomer, mouths agape.

 

 

 

The curly haired one-- Jim, turned his  
puzzled glance away from them and to the lanky newcomer. "Ah, Spock, any idea  
what happened?"

 

 

 

Rodney thought seriously about passing  
out.

 

 

 

"Rodney?" Sheppards voice sounded  
suspicious wobbly. "Tell me were hallucinating."

 

 

 

Carefully, Rodney got his feet under  
himself and stood, despite the protest of-- the doctor. "You got a tricorder on  
you?" he asked Spock, even though just thinking that made him a little woozy.

 

 

 

Spock raised a very well-groomed  
eyebrow, thought about it carefully, and then slowly handed over the small black  
box.

 

 

 

With shaking hands, Rodney accepted it  
and flipped it open. "Wow," he breathed. "Radek would be on the ceiling."

 

 

 

Sheppard appeared over his shoulder.  
"Hey, can it tell the difference between human life signs?"

 

 

 

Rodney nodded raptly.

 

 

 

"Cool," Sheppard agreed.

 

 

 

"You guys gonna need a room?"

 

 

 

They both looked up to see McCoys --  
Rodney twitched a bit-- smiling face. "Ah, no." He stared at the tricorder some  
more. "Can I take this apart?" he asked hopefully.

 

 

 

For someone with no emotions, Spock  
certainly moved fast and decisively when it involved electronics.

 

 

 

"McKay." Sheppard slapped a hand on his  
shoulder. "Lets not destroy the nice mans toys."

 

 

 

Rodney didn't pout. Really.

 

 

 

"So, Bones, are they going die?" Jim--  
who was he kidding -- Kirk asked.

 

 

 

"One day," McCoy groused.

 

 

 

Kirk smiled broadly. "Good. Now, would  
you gentlemen like to tell me who you are, and what youre doing here?"

 

 

 

Rodney got the distinct feeling that  
this was not a name, rank and serial number sort-of situation. He sighed and  
pinched the bridge of his nose, not sure where to start. "So, what do you know  
about alternate universes?"

 

 

 

He was actually kind of proud to have  
put that look on Kirks face.

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

Rodney stepped into the briefing room  
and stopped abruptly, only to be shoved out of the way almost immediately as  
John slammed into him.

 

 

 

"Oof- Rodney!" John's annoyed grump  
came from behind him. "Try not to be a human stumbling block, okay? This is  
weird enough without wrestling with you again for the same piece of the floor."

 

 

 

Rodney threw a disgruntled look over  
his shoulder as he stumbled out of the way. "You're the pilot. Be more  
graceful."

 

 

 

A chuckle interrupted them both.

 

 

 

McCoy was laughing at them.

 

 

 

Rodney resumed staring, possibly with a  
dumbstruck look on his face, though if pressed, he'd never admit it. He could  
feel John fall into place beside him, and a quick check showed an equally  
stunned expression.

 

 

 

"You gentlemen going to sit down, or is  
that sort of thing not done in your universe?" McCoy was also smiling at them  
and Rodney was struck by the actual country doctor charisma he exuded.

 

 

 

"Um, yes, sitting, we can do that.  
Right, Colonel?" Rodney was already reaching for the nearest seat. Only after he  
sat down did he realize that Spock was directly across from him, being all stoic  
and Vulcan-like and utterly unnerving.

 

 

 

John chuckled. "I'm sure we're not  
compromising anything if we take a seat, Rodney." His smile was easy going, but  
Rodney recognized the slouch as his 'twitch wrong and you'll be eating lead'  
position. It was oddly comforting.

 

 

 

Kirk leaned forward a bit, looking less  
constipated than before and more amused. "So, do you have any idea how you got  
here?"

 

 

 

Taking a deep breath, Rodney tapped his  
fingers nervously on the table. "Well, if I limit myself to breaking the laws of  
physics that have been broken by my esteemed colleagues before me? There are  
three or four possibilities." He shrugged. "If I have to branch out, the  
possibilities are almost endless." A sour feeling started in the pit of his  
stomach. "And considering my karmic standing is in the negative numbers, I'm  
betting on the latter."

 

 

 

Spock raised a curious eyebrow. "You  
are a Buddhist?"

 

 

 

"What?" Rodney shook his head rapidly.  
"No. What does that have to do with-- never mind, I don't want to know." He  
waved an excited hand at one of the styluses littering the table. "Will that  
thing let me draw circuit diagrams? What about math? What's the computing power  
on it, will I need to use the ship's computer and what about--"

 

 

 

"Rodney!" John cut him off, sounding  
amused. "Breathe."

 

 

 

Reflexively, Rodney breathed. "Right."  
He scowled. "So, computer?"

 

 

 

Kirk nodded. "We can provide you with  
access for computations and planning, that's not a problem, and Mr. Spock can  
assist you with anything else you need." He looked at them curiously. "So, where  
are you from?"

 

 

 

Obviously more amused than was for his  
own good, John gestured at Rodney. "He's from Canada, somewhere around Toronto I  
think, I'm from San Francisco."

 

 

 

McCoy snorted. "How about when?"

 

 

 

"2005," Rodney answered, something  
percolating in the back of his brain. "Hey, can we get full exams while we're  
here?"

 

 

 

McCoy looked mildly disturbed that  
someone was volunteering. "I suppose."

 

 

 

"Rodney." John was also giving him an  
odd look. "Usually, if there's nothing wrong, which is about forty-five percent  
of the time, you stay as far away from Beckett as possible."

 

 

 

Rodney rolled his eyes and shook his  
impatiently. "Yeah, well, they're like three hundred years ahead of us. They can  
probably fix things we don't even know are wrong yet."

 

 

 

"Only you would be a precognitive  
hypochondriac." John looked incredulous.

 

 

 

"Yeah well, I kinda miss orange juice,"  
Rodney grumped. "And as much as I enjoy food, I can live without needing it  
every five hours in order to survive. At the very least, being mocked by big,  
sloping brow-monkeys like yourself when I pass out from manly hunger is not the  
highlight of my incredibly medically troubled life."

 

 

 

John looked at him mildly for a few  
seconds before turning to McCoy. "They got psychiatrists here too?"

 

 

 

McCoy thumbed a finger at Kirk and  
Spock. "I'd be an alcoholic by now if we didn't."

 

 

 

Rodney and John both held back a snort  
of laughter along with the rest of the table, except of course for Spock, who  
just raised an eyebrow again.

 

 

 

"My God." Rodney looked on in horror.  
"That thing really does have moods." It  set them off into another round of near  
giggles, and left the rest of the table looking at them oddly.

 

 

 

Kirk cleared his throat. "That brings  
us to the other lurking issue." He looked at them questioningly. "You two seem  
to know us?"

 

 

 

Rodney abruptly stiffened, and then  
blushed like a loon. "Erm. Sort-of."

 

 

 

John nodded. "In theory."

 

 

 

"And that theory would be?" Kirk  
prompted.

 

 

 

Rodney looked at John pleadingly.

 

 

 

John looked back. "Nu uh. I'm not  
saying it."

 

 

 

"Well I'm not saying it." Rodney shook  
his head in panic. "If I hear myself saying that, I might have a psychological  
break of some sort, and then we'd be stuck in a universe where nothing in your  
lifetime would really be a surprise!"

 

 

 

 

 

"Well, you're not going to get me to say it,  
Rodney. Getting stuck in the real life version of Space Vampires from hell, let  
alone all the other crap I get to deal, with gives me a onetime exemption from  
insane explanations, which I'm going to cash in right now." John crossed his  
arms and looked stubborn. "Besides, as you're so fond of reminding me over and  
over, you're the genius, you figure out a way to say it without sounding like a  
flaming lunatic."

 

 

 

Rodney glared at him angrily before looking  
back at the rest of the table. "Okay, fine, but next time you need me to pull a  
technological miracle out of my ass in under twenty minutes, I won't be there.  
I'll be dead from humiliation."

 

"I'll get  
Zelenka to build me my nuclear bomb," John said smugly.

 

"He does  
shoddy work," Rodney argued on principle.

 

Spock raised  
that eyebrow again, tenting his fingers in front of him. "Nuclear bomb."

 

 

 

Suddenly remembering where he was,  
Rodney flushed bright again. "Ah right, not your thing. Dont worry, it was  
perfectly justifiable. Really, they were trying to eat us."

 

 

 

"Of course," Kirk agreed, nodding  
slowly.

 

 

 

John winced and covered his contorted  
face, looking like he was torn between laughing and throwing up.

 

 

 

"What's the matter?" Rodney asked.

 

 

 

John waved his hand indistinctly. "Priceline  
flashback," he muttered.

 

 

 

Rodney choked back laughter. "Don't do  
that!"

 

 

 

Kirk furrowed his brow, starting to  
look worried. "Priceline?"

 

 

 

John, who had about almost composed  
himself, lost it again, burying his head in his arms. He muttered things about  
'round trip tickets to Trek, shop and compare' and 'the one with the high  
heels'.

 

 

 

Rodney took a few deep breaths,  
clinging to composure by thin, fraying threads. "Right. Ignore him for now. He  
occasionally has psychotic breaks. It'll be better in a few minutes." He took  
another deep breath and pressed on. "The thing we really don't want to actually  
say because we're secretly afraid this is an elaborate Ancient prank and that  
someone is recording us, is that where we come from, you people are a popular TV  
show."

 

 

 

Kirk looked ready to give McCoy a  
silent signal to examine their heads. McCoy looked ready to receive said signal.

 

 

 

Spock just looked at them serenely,  
raised an eyebrow and said, "Fascinating."

 

 

 

Rodney gave up being stoic and quietly  
lost it.

 

 

 

******

 

 

 

Twenty minutes and a shot of Saurian  
Brandy later, they were both a lot calmer, aside from the near fit Rodney almost  
had at the sight of the uniquely shaped brandy bottle.

 

 

 

"I'm really sorry about that," John  
explained. "It's just very surreal."

 

 

 

Kirk nodded like he expected John to  
pull a knife on him at any moment. "I'm sure it is."

 

 

 

Rodney sighed deeply and wagged a  
finger at John. "If you breathe a word of the next five minutes to anyone, I'll  
see to it you never get hot water again. Even if that means stalking you back to  
Earth and sabotaging your apartment."

 

 

 

John raised his hands in surrender.

 

 

 

"Ok, so you're Captain James T. Kirk.  
Formerly an Admiral, born in Iowa, lied about your age on the academy  
application, cheated on the Kobayashi Maru, and fathered a son who had your hair  
and his mother's attitude and then had what I'm sure was the horrible experience  
of listening to him die." Rodney carefully ignored John's wide-eyed look. "By  
the way, I'd just like to say I've always admired you for that Kobayashi Maru  
thing."

 

 

 

Kirk paled, but nodded thoughtfully.  
"Not bad." He didn't look thoroughly convinced, but he didn't look happy either.  
At least he was getting there.

 

 

 

"You." Rodney pointed at McCoy. "You  
were married to a bitch who decided a hard working husband trying to make a  
career for himself just wasn't appealing. You've got a daughter you don't see  
enough, you're too brilliant for words and probably have more degrees  
accumulated than I do, you're consistently pining for the simple life but you  
know you'd probably get bored within a week." He paused thinking carefully. "And  
you once had the brilliant idea to hide a terminal illness from your captain and  
best friend." Rodney frowned a bit and added, "and your other best friend,"  
pointing in Spock's direction.

 

 

 

McCoy had a faint pinkness to his  
cheeks, but he smiled warmly. "Well, I'd say that thing about my ex-wife might  
have been a small exaggeration, and that inflexible machine in the corner  
wouldn't know a friend if it bit him in the ass."

 

 

 

Beside him, John choked, but maintained  
calm.

 

 

 

"And you." Rodney turned to Spock. "Are  
a--" A hand on his shoulder startled him.

 

 

 

John smiled at him condescendingly.  
"Let me, Rodney. You're starting to sound a little hysterical and I'd rather  
avoid playing a game of 'insult the Vulcan' until later, when I'm not there.  
They're about three stops from locking us in some loony bin somewhere right now,  
and if we wait, the possibility of it being over physics is a lot higher."

 

 

 

Rodney clicked his mouth shut,  
irritated and very close to losing it again, so he nodded. "Go ahead. I'd just  
like to remind you that your diplomatic skills aren't exactly the envy of  
Atlantis."

 

 

 

Kirk picked up on the most interesting  
tidbit right away. "Atlantis?"

 

 

 

John gave Rodney a long-suffering look.  
"As opposed to your big mouth."

 

 

 

"Please, it's not like it's really  
classified here." Rodney crossed his arms and continued to glare.

 

 

 

Blinking mildly, John faced a curious  
Spock. "You are Spock, son of Sarek, son of Skonn, son of Sokar, etcetera,  
etcetera, etcetera, all the way down to Surak. Your mom is a nice lady named  
Amanda Grayson, originally a teacher specializing in original translation  
algorithms." He leaned forward and rolled his neck, choosing the next bit of  
information carefully. "You got that thing with the multiples of seven," he went  
on, discretely. "And that number in the furs in Sarpedieon probably appreciated  
you more than you think."

 

 

 

"Hardly conclusive," Spock countered,  
unperturbed.

 

 

 

John pinched the bridge of his nose. "Saavik  
is half-Romulan," he said under his breath. "And had a thing for your tricorder  
when she was young."

 

 

 

Spock nodded slowly, obviously  
convinced - or at least well on his way.

 

 

 

Rodney was slack jawed. "You big fake,"  
he said finally. "Seriously, I mean, I knew it with the MENSA thing, but this  
cinches it. You are so one of us."

 

 

 

"Am not." John frowned.

 

 

 

Rodney frowned back. "I hate to admit  
it just as much as you, because you bring that whole military mentality that I'd  
rather not deal with, but you do that in front of Zelenka and he'll wander  
around Atlantis chanting 'One of us, one of us' until you break down. Finally,  
you'll let him stick on the Spock ears he made in that lab he thinks I don't  
know about. Then he'll force you into one of the science blue shirts and attempt  
to glue down your hair."

 

 

 

John looked a bit piqued. "That's...  
disturbing."

 

 

 

"Yes," McCoy agreed. "Yes it is. Why  
would anyone make--" His mouth twisted, as if the words didn't want to come out.  
"Spock ears?"

 

 

 

Rubbing the back of his neck, John  
grimaced uncomfortably.. "Well, when we said TV show? That was a bit of an  
understatement." He bit his lip and slumped further into his seat, like a sixth  
grader talking about missed homework. "More like a nearly forty year obsession."

 

 

 

Rodney felt a migraine coming on. "Dear  
God, please don't talk about the fans."

 

 

 

John looked askance. "What do you take  
me for, an idiot?"

 

 

 

Rodney considered the question. There  
were so many ways to answer it.

 

 

 

A rush of air left John's mouth and his  
lip curled in sarcastic disgust. "Just forget it."

 

 

 

"Happily," Rodney agreed.

 

 

 

McCoy waved a finger at them. "You two  
are positively scary, you know that?"

 

 

 

Rodney nodded.

 

 

 

John crossed his arms. "I consider it a  
command style."

 

 

 

Kirk's grin was practically  
incandescent. "A perfectly valid one." He tilted his head, studying them  
curiously. "So, how much *do* you know about us?"

 

 

 

"Captain." Spock's voice held a warning  
tone. "Perhaps it is best if we do not ask."

 

 

 

"Ow," Rodney scowled. "The temporal  
implications just gave me a mini-stroke."

 

 

 

"Indeed," Spock agreed, already typing  
something into the pad in front of him.

 

 

 

Rodney twitched and muttered, "Okay,  
never going to get used to that." He turned abruptly to McCoy. "Is there such a  
thing as a mini-stroke?" He poked at his left arm. "Because I think I lost a  
little bit of sensation." Rolling up his sleeve, he pinched the skin of his  
forearm and nodded frantically. "Yes, yes, I sense a distinct lack of  
sensation!"

 

 

 

McCoy raised an eyebrow, obviously  
starting to doubt his sanity. "How many degrees did you say you had?"

 

 

 

"Not including the Bachelors? Four."

 

 

 

McCoy nodded. "And are they from *real*  
universities?"

 

 

 

"Of course they're from real-- is there  
some reason you're insulting me?" Rodney's voice had reached its upper  
registers, and he could see Spock holding back a wince. "You have some serious  
hospitality issues," he finished gloomily. "And if I lose the capacity to  
understand wormhole physics, Elizabeth is so blaming you." He glared pointedly  
at John.

 

 

 

John raised his hands, palms out. "Hey,  
hey! How is your hypochondria my fault?"

 

 

 

"Thinking about the numerous ways I  
might die or be incapacitated is far better than thinking about you doing  
something stupid, like flying a nuclear bomb into a hive ship."

 

 

 

John's eyebrows knitted together. "Are  
you still on about that?"

 

 

 

"Who did you think was going to have to  
pilot the next one, huh? Since after you, there was no one left who could  
operate the chair, thus letting us continue with Plan A, the ultimately saner  
and less incredibly stupid plan?" Rodney's cheeks felt flushed and his chest  
puffed for air when he was done. One look at John's wide eyes and pale face and  
he buried his own face in his hands. "I'm sorry. I think I might be a little--"  
He raised a hand in an expressive gesture "You know."

 

 

 

"On edge?" John asked quietly, though  
his tone held a little bit of ironic humor.

 

 

 

Rodney took a deep, calming breath. At  
least he pretended it was calming. "Yes, that." He looked up into the very  
startled eyes of the Enterprise officers. "It's been a long day."

 

 

 

"Hive ship?" Spock asked.

 

 

 

"Nuclear?" McCoy asked interrupting  
Rodney's thought process.

 

 

 

"Suicide mission." Kirk stated making  
Rodney's stomach clench.

 

 

 

Rodney saw John nod beside him. "It's  
been that sort of year."

 

 

 

Kirk nodded, a little taken aback. "I  
sensed that."

 

 

 

Spock leaned forward, fingers touching  
his lips. "However, since neither of you appear to be suffering from any sort of  
radiation sickness, nor are you significantly injured in any way that I can see,  
may I assume that whatever battle you went through was at least a limited  
success?"

 

 

 

Rodney's shoulders relaxed as he was  
reminded that yes, they had won and they'd won but good. "Yes. Limited."

 

 

 

Spock nodded.

 

 

 

John's eyes narrowed, and he stared at  
Spock for a few seconds before he retreated back into his chair with a mild  
"Huh."

 

 

 

 

 

******

 

 

 

Rodney, flanked by Spock, entered  
engineering. The tall column pulsing rhythmically in the center of the room made  
him pause.

 

 

 

"See." Rodney gestured at it. "Can  
someone explain to me how that works? Because from where I'm standing it's a  
glowing, throbbing rod and really-- has no one here read Freud?"

 

 

 

"That, laddie, is the heart and soul of  
the propulsion system," Scotty's rough brogue answered for him.

 

 

 

Rodney spun around, caught between a  
sense of awe at being in the presence of a Mecca of fake science, and sadness  
that news of the actor's death had arrived with the Daedalus. "So, what sort of  
technobabble are you going to throw at me to explain how that blister in the  
purity of science not only exists, but works?"

 

 

 

The hue of Scotty's cheeks darkened  
into a dangerous red before Spock stepped between them. "Mr. Scott, might I  
remind you that Dr. McKay hails from another universe, one in which our sciences  
might be... differently organized."

 

 

 

Scotty bit back a response. The  
determined look on his face didn't fade though, and Rodney could make out some  
indistinct muttering as they made their way to a station in the back.

 

 

 

"This is probably not where you will do  
any of your building. I've reserved one of the science labs for that," Spock  
began, already fiddling with some of the controls. "However, this will be a good  
place to display diagrams, do a large part of the calculations, and possibly  
serve as a forum for exchanging of ideas."

 

 

 

Scotty's face darkened at the  
suggestion, but he nodded, looking like he'd just swallowed a handful of nails.

 

 

 

Rodney was already inputting numbers  
and getting to know his computer. "Yes yes," he said distractedly. "Now leave me  
alone while I figure out how to go home without breaking the space-time  
continuum."

 

 

 

He barely noticed when they shared an  
amused look and left him to his math.

 

 

 

******

 

 

 

John leaned back in the chair with a  
quiet sigh. A rec room was a great idea. They had the supplies for one back on  
Atlantis, but nothing concrete had been put together yet. He made a mental note  
to look into it when they got back.

 

 

 

The view outside the window made him  
pause, as it always did when he had the time to be impressed.

 

 

 

"Is that a new sight for you?"

 

 

 

John looked up startled as Kirk down in  
beside him.

 

 

 

"The stars." Kirk gestured at the  
window. "You ever see them from this angle? You two weren't very forthcoming  
about your level of technology."

 

 

 

John lowered his head abashedly. "Yeah,  
sorry about that, we're just a little... freaked out at the moment." He turned  
back to the view. "And yes, I've had the chance before." His hand grazed the  
clear substance, feeling the coldness. "But I never thought I actually would."

 

 

 

"Pure luck?" Kirk asked, a knowing lilt  
to his voice.

 

 

 

John shrugged. "Earth in our time  
period is a lot like yours was. No one on has the technology to do much more  
than stumble around blind, deaf, and dumb, hoping we'll learn something before  
we kill ourselves, and we have to justify our expenditures to the public." His  
hand spread across the view like a spider, fingers spreading, as if reaching for  
something.

 

 

 

"And unofficially?"

 

 

 

"Atlantis," John whispered reverently.  
"A place that feels like home, in another galaxy." The cold on his hand made him  
shiver. The jumper was never cold like this, like the vastness of space was  
creeping up on them despite the safety of their ship. He shook his head.  
"Unofficially, there are aliens and wars and politics and we're just starting to  
catch up."

 

 

 

Kirk made a loud sniffing noise. "I  
smell massive political conspiracy."

 

 

 

John raised an eyebrow. "Funny, I  
always get that smell confused with shit. How do you tell the difference?"

 

 

 

Kirk shrugged. "More vultures."

 

 

 

A grin spread across John's face, and  
he turned deliberately from the window. "I'll keep that in mind."

 

 

 

"I'll bet you will." Kirk smiled  
casually, offering him a drink from a flask that appeared out of nowhere, along  
with some glasses.

 

 

 

John eyed the amber liquid. "You know,  
I forgot how often alcohol played a role on the show." He took the glass and  
swirled it experimentally, "I forgot that you were forged in the ideals of the  
Sixties."

 

 

 

Kirk obviously had no idea what to say  
to that. "Without wanting to sound like an alcoholic, I thought you looked like  
you needed it."

 

 

 

John saluted Kirk with the glass and  
took a careful sip. "As I said before, it's been a hell of a year."

 

 

 

Kirk drank with him. "I've had a few of  
those."

 

 

 

Trying not to choke on his drink, John  
nodded. "I might be familiar with some of them."

 

 

 

"Thought you might." Kirk's grin was  
hidden behind the rim of his glass. "Trouble is, at my age I have problems  
choosing only one year for comparison." He studied John from behind the glass  
and his eyes shadowed just a bit. "I think perhaps you and Spock should probably  
have a talk."

 

 

 

John found himself holding back words,  
things he shouldn't say, wouldn't if it were his own timeline. Instead, he  
nodded and let a companionable silence fall for a short time.

 

 

 

"Dr. McKay isn't going to get annoyed  
that you're not helping?" Kirk eventually asked. "He seems the type to take  
offense about whether you're there or not."

 

 

 

Smiling fondly, John looked at Kirk.  
"I've found that it's better to get out of Rodney's way until he's sure he can't  
do it."

 

 

 

"And then?"

 

 

 

John shrugged. "Then I smack him with  
something large and only occasionally metaphorical."

 

 

 

They shared quiet laughter, and John  
was struck by how right and how wrong the writers had gotten him. Kirk was  
charismatic, there was no denying that. The urge to spill his guts totally and  
completely still itched at the back of his throat. Kirk was also very smart;  
intelligent enough to make some mighty fine guesses, and compassionate enough to  
know when John just wasn't willing to talk about something.

 

 

 

What threw him was the vulnerability,  
his own ability to read Kirk; the fine lines about his eyes, and the grayness in  
the hair that seemed so much starker in person. This was a man who'd lived a  
long and dangerous career. This was also a man who still laughed. It was a  
sobering thought.

 

 

 

Kirk elbowed him gently in the side.  
"Best friends are some responsibility, huh?"

 

 

 

A hard, bitter lump appeared in his  
throat and John found himself taking a long pull from the glass in front of him,  
relishing the slight burn as it worked its way down, leaving an acidic feeling  
in his stomach. "Yeah," he rasped quietly. "At least yours eventually got past  
the socially retarded stage."

 

 

 

The loud coughing that came from Kirk  
wasn't really a surprise.

 

 

 

******

 

 

 

"Oh my God, you've just invented a new  
form of idiocy!"

 

 

 

"Now, laddie, there's no reason to be  
getting testy."

 

 

 

"Of course there is! Physics has just  
gotten up, danced on its ears, and taken up residence with a hobo! I can be as  
testy as I want!"

 

 

 

******

 

 

 

Kirk sat back down looking amused. "You  
sure security doesn't need to supervise?"

 

 

 

"He's all bark," John assured him. "I'd  
be more worried if there wasn't any yelling at all."

 

 

 

"If you say so." Kirk didn't sound  
reassured, but he didn't rescind his orders either.

 

 

 

John went back to the story about the  
two women with the jello shots.

 

 

 

******

 

 

 

"Overrated! I knew it! My entire  
childhood values system blown out of the water!"

 

 

 

"There is no need to become agitated,  
Dr. McKay, I was merely pointing out that--"

 

 

 

"You were wrong! Absolutely and utterly  
wrong! Go ahead, change your name to Mr. Can't Smell the Abysmally Wrong Physics  
That's Right in Front of His Face!"

 

 

 

"People have enough trouble with my  
name as it is, Dr. McKay."

 

 

 

******

 

 

 

Kirk watched as another red-shirt  
 skittered around the corner to join an increasing number of white faced young  
men, all looking like they'd just escaped a war zone.

 

 

 

"You know," he said conversationally.  
"If you could harness that power..."

 

 

 

John nodded and slumped back in his  
seat. The third glass had numbed most of his nerves, and he was pleasantly  
relaxed. "We've thought about it, but he'd never sit still for long enough."

 

 

 

They both watched someone in science  
blue run in with a data pad, show off the screen, collect some information, and  
then skitter out again.

 

 

 

"Bet he's entertaining," Kirk observed.

 

 

 

John nodded. "He is, when you know,  
there aren't bullets and energy beams and stuff being shot at us."

 

 

 

Kirk winked. "You're young. It'll start  
getting entertaining all the time."

 

 

 

******

 

 

 

"Oh that's it. We're screwed. Totally  
screwed."

 

 

 

"You haven't even looked at my  
suggestions."

 

 

 

"I'm depressed enough, thank you."

 

 

******

 

   
McCoy sat down across from them.  
"Room at the table for another lush?"

 

 

 

John had shifted so his feet  
were casually draped on the table. He waved magnanimously from his reclined  
position. "Who you calling lush, Doc?"

 

 

 

Gesturing at the half-empty  
bottle McCoy smiled. "The evidence is before my eyes, and even I can come to a  
logical conclusion now and then."

 

 

 

John squinted at the doctor  
carefully. "How do I know you're the right kind of lush?"

 

 

 

McCoy waved a hand at Kirk.  
"He'll vouch for me." He was already pouring himself a glass.

 

 

 

"Best lush this side of the  
galaxy," Kirk confirmed, raising a glass. "To command decisions and their  
fallout."

 

 

 

John raised his glass. "To  
classy women and lemon jello."

 

 

 

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "To  
loose-lipped drunks."

 

 

 

They drank, and a nervous  
looking ensign appeared by their side. Sir? he said to John, and handed John a  
datapad.

 

 

 

"Anything wrong?" Kirk asked,  
suddenly sober and in focus

 

   
"Nah." John put the pad down.  
"It's just time for me to find my metaphor and smack McKay around with it."

 

 

 

******

 

   
Upon careful consideration, John  
decided to take the easy, if slightly dangerous approach. Spock noticed him  
enter quietly and took one careful step to the side, catching Scotty's eye as  
well. John gave them both a grateful nod and then moved in for the kill.

 

 

 

Rodney flailed at first, nearly  
getting an elbow into someplace sensitive.

 

 

 

"Hey, Rodney, time for food."

 

 

 

That certainly got a message  
across.

 

 

 

"Why didn't you say so?" Rodney  
groused, still struggling minutely.

 

 

 

John tightened the arm around  
Rodney's shoulders, and directed him down the corridor. "Well I thought that if  
I didn't make some sort of show of it, most of the engineering department would  
have tried to lock you in a small room somewhere."

 

 

 

"They're just jealous," Rodney  
sniffed.

 

 

 

"Sure they are."

 

 

 

******

 

 

 

They'd been housed in some sort  
of VIP suite, possibly to keep them contained, or perhaps to give them security  
in a foreign environment.

 

 

 

After an afternoon of drinking  
with Kirk, John still wasn't sure which one it was. It was probably both, and he  
couldn't give damn either way.

 

 

 

Rodney had collapsed into  
unconsciousness about thirty seconds after the last bite had entered his mouth,  
just long enough for him to finish a segment of math, and to place the tablet  
someplace he wouldn't accidentally step on it.

 

 

 

Of course, that left him little  
time to actually make it to bed. John shrugged; the couch looked comfy enough.

 

 

 

He left Rodney to his drool and  
resumed reading. Kirk had been kind enough to allow them access to their  
historical files, and John couldn't help but be curious. He hadn't actually  
asked for it, and Kirk had a knowing smirk on his face when he'd offered.

 

 

 

Sometime later he sat up and  
stretched, arching his back and popping none too few vertebrae as he stood,  
contemplating bed with a sleepy smile. He eyed Rodney, still sound asleep on the  
couch, and went and collected a blanket, draping it over his shoulders  
carefully. Rodney twitched violently, but didn't wake.

 

 

 

John shrugged and headed to his  
own bed. In the doorway, he studied the controls carefully, finding the  
combination of buttons to keep the door open. He took one last look at Rodney,  
still occasionally twitching, and slowly and deliberately pressed the commands  
in.

 

 

 

Later, in the darkness of  
artificial night, John heard a sound that made his heart pound and his eyes jump  
open. He searched his surroundings, but found nothing but blackness.. He rolled  
and shifted, pulling the blankets up to cover himself in the perfectly climate  
controlled room.

 

 

 

Then out of the blackness, the  
noise happened again. It was small and high pitched and full of--

 

 

 

He was out of the bed like a  
shot; his blanket fell in a tangle around his feet, nearly tripping him. He skid  
into the common room to find Rodney flipped over on the couch, clawing at the  
pillows beneath him, twisting out of some unseen grasp.

 

 

 

Rodney's eyes fluttered  
frantically as John carefully put a hand on Rodney's back, the fabric damp and  
sweaty beneath his fingers. "Rodney," he whispered, shaking him slightly.

 

 

 

Rodney gasped and shrank away  
from his hand, curling up into a corner even as his eyes blinked blearily.  
"Colonel?" he croaked.

 

 

 

John kept his hands up and  
within eye line while nodding. "That's right, Rodney, just me."

 

 

 

Rodney took a few deep,  
shuddering breaths, and nodded quickly. "Right, sorry, not used to," he waved  
his hands around in large sweeping arcs, "you know."

 

 

 

"Not really," John razzed, but  
let it go. "You okay?"

 

 

 

Already standing and pacing,  
Rodney dismissed the question with another series of hand motions that could  
have meant, 'slide into home after the batter bunts', or possibly, 'ham and  
cheese on rye'. With Rodney, you could never tell.

 

 

 

"Fine, fine, just... Spock as a  
Wraith, very scary."

 

 

 

John shivered. "Your  
subconscious is a freaky place, Rodney."

 

 

 

Rodney stopped pacing abruptly  
and gave John a sour face. "Yes, well, you and my analyst can discuss that  
later." He poked at a pile of things in the corner. "Where did I leave that  
computer?"

 

 

 

Sliding the black rectangle  
under the couch with one bare foot, John shrugged. "No idea."

 

 

 

Rodney collapsed suddenly into a  
nearby chair like his strings had been cut, long fingers curling over his face  
and moving in little circles around his temples. "This is going to be a long  
night."

 

 

 

The deep shadows of the room  
covered them both in a soft cloak, muffling everything that should have seemed  
sharp and painful. Even Rodney's slumped shoulders had the quiet cry of  
weariness instead of the loud bark of pain.

 

 

 

Johns movements blended into  
the darkness as he crossed the room and leaned over Rodney's shoulder, fingers  
whispering past the slightly damp material to access the computer on the desk.  
"Look what I found," he said in a hushed voice, muted by his own tiredness.

 

 

 

Rodney pulled the monitor closer  
and stared at it,  sneering at the glow of light cutting into the the room.  
"Chess?"

 

 

 

"Not just any chess." John  
couldn't help some of the giddiness that leaked into his voice.  
"Three-dimensional chess."

 

 

 

John set the board up while  
Rodney devoured the rules with a scary sort of hunger. The first few games were  
nothing more than trials, testing out the moves, adapting popular  
two-dimensional strategies, and getting a feel for the board.

 

 

 

Rodney had declared any  
literature on the three-dimensional version within the computer databanks was to  
be off-limits, because damnit, he'd rather be trussed up like a pig on an alien  
planet than be hand-fed help by a piece of fiction.

 

 

 

By the fourth game, they really  
had something going. Fifteen moves in, their play had slowed, and each turn  
involved long contemplative moments before a piece was put into play.

 

 

 

Rodney was completely focused on  
the game, oddly relaxed despite the competition. Except that his long, agile  
fingers kept *stroking* the bishop he'd taken out several moves earlier.

 

 

 

John watched Rodney's thumb  
slowly trace the ridges of the bishop, one detail at a time, as it disappeared  
into that large fist. Then it circled the top of the pointy hat, and started  
back down as the bishop slowly reemerged. He swallowed past a dry mouth.

 

 

 

"You going to move sometime this  
century, or does your strategy include staring off into space?"

 

 

 

John started at the comment,  
cheeks burning. "Taking my time, Rodney." He moved a pawn to a clear space  
two-levels down. He'd already figured out his next three moves, his pauses and  
contemplations had been mostly for effect.

 

 

 

  Rodney looked at the board  
thoughtfully, full mouth resting on his fist. His fingers were still wrapped  
around the bishop that had been so thoroughly fondled before. The juxtaposition  
of the chess piece so perilously close to Rodney's lips was distracting, and  
John was fairly sure the little helmet was mocking him, tip sticking out of  
Rodney's fist like that. The quick swipe of Rodneys tongue over his bottom lip  
was just enough to nudge John over from aching to half-hard. He shuddered.

 

 

 

"Cold?" Rodney eyed him. "*Some*  
people wear shirts to bed."

 

 

 

He really should have been  
freaking out right about then. "Just a premonition." He had the feeling he'd  
used his freak out quotient already.

 

 

 

Rodney finally moved a rook.  
"Precognitive now? What, the hair help with the reception?"

 

 

 

Frowning, John poked at his  
hair. "You are one jealous bitch." The tension in his body coiled tighter. "Just  
saw exactly how I was going to beat you, is all."

 

 

 

Licking his lips again, Rodney  
narrowed his eyes. "You are not going to beat me--"

 

 

 

John decided not to prolong the  
waiting He might have enjoyed it too much.

 

 

 

The gaping, open-mouthed look,  
really worked for Rodney.

 

 

 

"You-- you-- cheater!" Rodney  
sputtered.

 

 

 

Hands wide and open, waved at  
the board. "If you can tell me how I cheated, I'll admit to it," John offered.

 

 

 

Rodney sputtered some more, his  
own hands waving as if conducting some unseen orchestra. "You always cheat! It's  
your thing."

 

 

 

John straightened with a sinking  
feeling that they weren't talking about chess anymore. "My... thing?"

 

 

 

"Yes, your thing! You cheat, you  
do things no one should, and you do them better than anyone could possibly think  
to!" Rodney was up and pacing again, like potential energy just released. "You  
run away and don't say good bye, and then you don't even have the decency to  
leave us time to grieve properly, or resent you fully,because you just beam back  
in like you seem to think itll be *poof!* all better, well I hate to say it,  
Colonel, but it's not!"

 

 

 

Rodney stopped in front of him,  
glaring angrily. "So long, Rodney? What the hell was that?" He kicked John's  
shin. "Might as well have told me to 'train the boy'."

 

 

 

John hugged himself tightly.  
"Ugh, you with a nine-year-old."

 

 

 

That stopped Rodney in his  
tracks and left him gaping again.

 

 

 

"And really," John continued.  
"I'm glad we didn't actually end up there, the hole in my chest wouldve really  
affected my surfing.

 

 

 

Later, he'd swear he never saw  
the punch coming.

 

 

 

*******

 

 

 

Darkness gave way to a faint  
throb of John's cheekbone. "Ow," he muttered.

 

 

 

"Oh thank God." Rodney's  
relieved face hovered in his blurry vision.

 

 

 

A pang of warmth at Rodney's  
concern nearly made John try to smile, despite the pain.

 

 

 

"Could you tell these people  
that you started it?" Rodney asked.

 

 

 

On second thought, he considered  
returning the favor.

 

 

 

Peering behind Rodney, he could  
see an impassive security guard, and a mildly amused Kirk. John swung his legs  
over the side of the bed he was in, and sat up.

 

 

 

"Hey hey!" McCoy came up next to  
him. "If I'm gonna be woken up in the middle of the night, you're gonna let me  
play doctor."

 

 

 

John grinned.

 

 

 

Rodney gave him an irritated  
look. "Oh, grow up."

 

 

 

"You're the one that slugged  
me." John sat still for the strange doohickey McCoy waved at his face. Something  
cold and full of pressure was held against his cheekbone, and then there was  
blessed numbness. The release of pain left him boneless and little dizzy.  
"Though to be fair," he addressed Kirk. "I may have goaded him a little."

 

 

 

"A little?" Rodney huffed.

 

 

 

"You were just angry I beat you  
at chess."

 

 

 

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "A fist  
fight broke out over a chess game? Your universe is really different, isn't it?"

 

 

 

John shrugged, watching McCoy  
attack his face with a new instrument. "Approximately one hundred scientists  
trapped together? Healthy competition takes on a new meaning."

 

 

 

Kirk surreptitiously dismissed  
the guard and Rodney crept closer, intrigued by whatever the doctor was doing to  
his face.

 

 

 

"Are you actually repairing the  
cells?" Rodney asked, hands twitching until McCoy rolled his eyes and handed the  
device over.

 

 

 

"Accelerating mostly. There's  
nothing broken, so I'm just speeding up cell production in a few minute areas.  
Wouldn't do for the body to forget how to heal itself." McCoy pointed out  
various dials and settings, and just as Rodney reached the point of salivating,  
he plucked it out of his greedy hands, put it away and said, "no, you may not  
take it apart."

 

 

 

Rodney made a small noise, but  
stayed silent.

 

 

 

When their guests finally left,  
Rodney's shoulders slumped infinitesimally. He turned to John and waved towards  
the common room. "I'll just go back to looking for that computer."

 

 

 

John watched as Rodney  
 retreated. "It's under the couch."

 

 

 

Rodney stopped in the doorway,  
back stiff. "Do you hurt people on purpose?" he asked softly, before closing the  
door behind him.

 

 

 

*******

 

 

 

Rodney avoided John the next  
day. It was subtle and quite clever, but it was hard to disguise the lack of  
Rodney, or at least, the lack of sound.

 

 

 

Kirk, either being the gracious  
host, or sensing something was up, sent him out on a shuttlecraft with Chekov to  
do a little piloting. When they got back, there was an unsubtle exchange of  
winnings and mutterings about g-forces and internal tolerances.

 

 

 

John just grinned.

 

 

 

*******

 

 

 

Rodney kept to himself. After  
being escorted to the private lab, he didn't yell at all. Not even when Spock  
corrected his math.

 

 

 

*******

 

 

 

John checked to make sure Rodney  
had regular meals, but otherwise, left it alone.

 

 

 

*******

 

 

 

The next day Scotty dropped off  
some basic science books, and Rodney tore into him on everything from Warp  
theory to Entropy and back.

 

 

 

*******

 

 

 

"He's yelling again." Kirk told  
John over lunch.

 

 

 

John took a big bite of steak.  
"I know." He took another bite. "Took Scotty the better part of a morning to  
find the right book."

 

 

 

*******

 

 

 

Day three had John getting an  
extensive tour of their sensor systems and a visit to the shooting range.

 

 

 

"No," Spock said. "You cannot  
take it apart."

 

 

 

John shrugged nonchalantly.  
"Didn't really want to, but I was trying to figure out if I could get you to  
trade me a crate of those for Rodney."

 

 

 

"Do you suffer from some sort of  
illness?"

 

 

 

*******

 

 

 

By the third night, John was  
pretty much fed up with the whole avoidance thing, so he'd asked a simple  
question of Spock. A raised eyebrow had led to a stuttering explanation and a  
call to Kirk, whod looked like he was going to hurt something not laughing when  
explained what he wanted and why. When he was finished, Spock had told him  
exactly what he'd needed to know.

 

 

 

Getting back to their humble  
abode about an hour before Rodney had taken to stumbling in, John got to work.  
When Rodney made his appearance, John was casually reading some twenty-third  
century literature. Those Andorians sure were sensualists.

 

 

 

It took about thirty seconds for  
it to sink in, but when it did...

 

 

 

"Okay, so that is probably the  
most childish thing I've ever seen." Rodney's voice cut through the silence.

 

 

 

Carefully not looking up, John  
answered, "Why, whatever do you mean, Rodney?"

 

 

 

"You locked the door!" Rodney  
actually jumped up and down a little.

 

 

 

"You were avoiding me," John  
said reasonably, even though the  red tinge on Rodney's face had him considering  
crawling under the table for cover.

 

 

 

Rodney snarled, got to his  
knees, and started to take off the paneling around the buttons to the right of  
the door. John frowned. This wasnt how it was supposed to go.

 

 

 

"Scotty is going to be pretty  
mad if you break his ship," John cautioned.

 

 

 

"Scotty is already pretty mad at  
me," Rodney answered around some tool or another.

 

 

 

John let the muttering and  
cursing go on for a few minutes before speaking up again. "Wouldn't it be easier  
to talk to me?"

 

 

 

Rodney rolled his eyes and  
hunched his shoulders. "One day I should introduce you to my parents." He  
fiddled some more before turning to face John. "And really, since when do you  
talk about anything? Last time there was a problem, you pulled out that tired  
old football video and attempted to relate life on Atlantis to a bad pass."

 

 

 

Affronted, John leaned back in  
his seat. "Hey, you use whats available."

 

 

 

"Yes, and that poor woman, who  
probably thought she'd been asked on a date, left looking dazed, confused, and  
not a little bit frustrated." Rodney returned to checking circuits.

 

 

 

John furrowed his brows. "That  
would explain the perfume."

 

 

 

Rodney made a little frustrated  
sound and hit the wall. "You can't really be that dense, can you?"

 

 

 

"If I try hard enough." John  
swung around in the chair and stood. "Was that the same hand you hit me with?"

 

 

 

Rodney glared, and rubbed the  
knuckles gently.

 

 

 

"So, I think maybe you should  
tell me why you're so angry," John said quietly.

 

 

 

"I'm an angry man, lots of  
repression from early childhood," Rodney bit out, turning back to the wall.  
"Something about unhealthy attachments to things that are bad for me." He tried  
another route on the lock. "Once a year I used to have something with citrus in  
it."

 

 

 

John could feel his brow  
knitting in confusion. "Why would you do that?"

 

 

 

Rodney's hands dropped. "To  
prove that I could? To know exactly what the reaction felt like? To try and  
allay the sense of false hope that the allergy would fade just as suddenly as it  
had appeared?"

 

 

 

John stepped around Rodney,  
pressed a few buttons, and waited as the door slid open with an anticlimactic  
hiss. "You look tired."

 

 

 

Rubbing his eyes furiously,  
Rodney slumped against the wall. "You try keeping two different sets of physics  
straight in your head, one of which relies on a set of rules that is simply  
absurd, and see how bright and chipper you are at the end of the day."

 

 

 

John sat next to him, knees  
brushing. "I couldn't have said anything else, Rodney."

 

 

 

Rodney hugged his own knees  
close to his chest. "Yeah well, don't expect me to care next time you try to  
kill yourself."

 

 

 

John knew there were moments  
where you were supposed to say something profound and deep and meaningful. You  
were supposed to take that chance and make that leap, but in thinking about  
those moments, hed never thought about *those moments*, where you were stuck  
waiting to decide. He swallowed thickly and reached out, taking Rodney's  
shaking, sweaty hand in his own.

 

 

 

"I couldn't have said more,  
Rodney," he said again, his voice hushed. "Because anything else and I wouldn't  
have gone at all." John paused. "And I had to go."

 

 

 

Rodney's hand stayed passive in  
his own while Rodney thought hard enough that John could feel the brainwaves  
from where he sat.

 

 

 

"You can't know that for sure."  
Rodney shifted their hands and laced their fingers. "You can't be sure that  
there wasn't another way."

 

 

 

"No," John conceded, staring at  
their hands clasped tightly, relief surging through him in strong waves, "I  
can't. But at that moment I knew that I *could* possibly save everyone, and give  
you some time to do your thing."

 

 

 

Rodney's body leaned against  
him, heavy and warm. "There wasn't anyone left who could operate the chair."

 

 

 

"You could have done it." John  
pulled their clasped hands up to his mouth, letting his lips linger softly on  
Rodney's knuckles. "Technology quivers before your intellect and determination."

 

 

 

Relaxing even further against  
John, Rodney took their tethered hands and held them close to his body, his head  
tilted onto John's shoulder. "It's nice to know you recognize my vast  
intelligence. Now if only you'd listen to me on occasion."

 

 

 

John shifted his body so that  
Rodney's head lay on his chest, and his free hand reached around to cup Rodney's  
cheek. "I listen to you all the time."

 

 

 

Rodney stared at him, disbelief  
apparent in his eyes for a long second, before they closed as he leaned into  
John's palm. He could feel Rodney's resistance bleeding away into nothingness.

 

 

 

The stubble under his fingers  
tingled with electricity and, the sound of Rodney's soft breath as it got closer  
made him shiver. John leaned in, and Rodney's lips tasted of coffee and  
something sweet and the kiss was soft, so soft and gentle and full of emotion it  
was almost too much. The warm press of Rodney against his chest, of Rodneys  
hand on his neck pulling him closer, and the soft hitching of breaths, all  
combined until whatever was expanding inside of him threatened spill over.

 

 

 

The kiss ended with the slow  
parting of lips and the gentle touching of foreheads.

 

 

 

"What are we, Athosian now?"  
Rodney's voice was light and held together a bit too tightly for the barb to  
really be sharp. "Also, for the record, this is not going to make me less angry  
next time you do something stupid."

 

 

 

Instead of finding the right  
words, John kissed him again. Rodney made a small noise and arched against him,  
fingers resuming their steady grip on the back of John's neck, circling slowly,  
and John lost himself in the warm, wet lips. They parted, hands still entwined,  
tangled together on the softly carpeted floor, breathing in unison.

 

 

 

Rodney's free fingers traced  
lazy circles over John's breast bone, and he had trouble tearing his attention  
away from the soft caress to speak.

 

 

 

"So this could possibly not have  
been where I'd expected the evening to go," John whispered into Rodney's hair,  
huffing at it softly when it tickled under his nose.

 

 

 

He could feel Rodney's laugh as  
it started deep in his chest and rippled upwards through his throat and out his  
mouth. Rodney's lips glanced off his collar bone as they twisted, and John could  
see the expression on his face.

 

 

 

"Don't worry; I plan on  
continuing to be angry with you in the morning."

 

 

 

The leg wrapped around John's  
hip burned a mark into his skin as Rodney shifted around, curling closer. He  
found his free hand tracing the strong muscle between ass and thigh, thumb  
digging in just enough to elicit a small moan of contentedness.

 

 

 

Rodney mouthed underneath John's  
chin, licking and then breathing hot, moist air onto a patch of skin that made  
John's breath catch in his throat, and a violent shiver thread through his body,  
even as his cock began to ache lazily. His hips gave a slow, careful thrust.

 

 

 

The leg around his waist  
tightened, and Rodney gave his own tentative thrust back, erection burning into  
his thigh. The hot, sluggish spirals of pleasure felt better than anything had  
in a long time. It was all open mouths and unhurried movements and soft gasps  
and time stretched into long, endless shivery seconds.

 

 

 

"Wait," Rodney's voice rasped,  
hot and wet in his ear. "What if they're watching us?"

 

 

 

 John licked a broad sweep over  
the shell of Rodney's ear. "Why on earth would they do that?"

 

 

 

Rodney shuddered in his arms. "SGC  
does it all the time." The breathless huff in his voice was such a turn-on.

 

 

 

They rolled, and John settled  
into the groove between Rodney's leg and body, straddling his thigh perfectly,  
and the intense feeling of two strong thighs pushing into him distracted him for  
a moment. "I thought," he said with his teeth worrying at Rodney's neck. "That  
Starfleet had risen above such base and patently intrusive practices."

 

 

 

Hot, agile hands worked under  
John's shirt. "Are you kidding me? This is Kirk's ship. Do you know how many  
scenes started with him putting his boots back on?"

 

 

 

"So, if Kirk's watching." John  
sucked on an earlobe. "We'll ask him for pointers." Even though he was arguing  
for not stopping, he slowed his own progress, carefully peeling himself away,  
lips aching at the loss of salty skin, hips missing the warm pressure of  
Rodney's. His cock got one glorious push along its underside as he slid away.

 

 

 

He caught his breath as his  
thumb slipped over Rodney's flushed cheek. "As comfortable as this floor is,  
it's probably bed time."

 

 

 

Rodney's eyes widened a bit,  
their glassy pupils shining with the reflection of the overhead lights.

 

 

 

"Alone," John said, offering a  
soft kiss of apology.

 

 

 

Frantic head bobbing signaled  
Rodney's agreement. "Yes. Yes, alone. I agree. Because this is undoubtedly some  
sort of partial insanity on both our parts."

 

 

 

John pushed himself upright,  
doing his best not to notice how their hands were still tightly wrapped  
together. "Partial insanity?" He was pretty sure there was a ridiculous grin  
spread across his face despite the ache of his throbbing erection.

 

 

 

Rodney sat up next to him,  
flopping against his shoulder. "We're making out on the floor of the Enterprise.  
You've got a better description?"

 

 

 

"Point." John stood, and tugged  
Rodney up with him.

 

 

 

They kissed one last time, lips  
lingering slowly, hands tightening painfully, until they both pulled away one  
slow inch at a time. In a fit of utter twelve-year-oldness, their linked hands  
pulled between them as they went in their separate directions, fingers slipping  
with one last silly attempt to hold on, and they managed to snap their fingers.

 

 

 

Rodney's laughter kept him going  
through the door, but when it whooshed closed, his fingers clawed at his pants,  
and he staggered to the bed, not quite making it. One hand braced on the  
bedspread, he buried his face in the crook of his elbow, as the other hand  
wrapped around his cock and pulled roughly.

 

 

 

He thought of Rodney's strong  
hands wrapped around his legs, and the flush spreading down past his collar, the  
taste of skin under his teeth. His hand moved fast, and his hips jerked wildly.  
The memory of rocking against that broad thigh made him shudder. He stopped  
momentarily to sweep his tongue across the palm of his hand in one long broad  
stroke. After that it was perfect, a wet, slick place to fuck, and his shirt,  
still smelling faintly of Rodney, making him hotter than he thought possible.  
The mattress jerked with his frantic movements, climax spiraling out of control.  
He whined Rodney's name into his sleeve and came so hard his muscles were sure  
to ache in the morning.

 

 

 

He knelt on the floor, lungs  
heaving as the aftershocks rumbled through him, until finally, he shrugged out  
of his pants and shirt, wiped himself down, climbed into bed, and fell into an  
exhausted sleep.

 

 

 

********

 

 

 

John wandered out to the common  
room at the same time as Rodney, who stopped, flushed bright red, and ran a hand  
through his hair.

 

 

 

To stave off any attacks of,  
well, just about anything, John took three long strides across the room, grabbed  
Rodney by the back of the neck, and planted a blistering kiss on his lips. The  
flailing quickly morphed into holding, and possibly caressing, but John was too  
focused on movement of lips beneath his and the quick peek of tongue.

 

 

 

They parted, panting.

 

 

 

"Morning," John said, going for  
chipper.

 

 

 

"Coffee," Rodney countered, but  
didn't look too grumpy.

 

 

 

Later, after food and caffeine,  
Rodney pushed his plate away and looked up at John with narrow eyes and open  
hands. "So I noticed we didn't have sex last night."

 

 

 

John nodded carefully and tried  
not to condescend. "And they only call you a genius." Well, not to condescend  
too much.

 

 

 

Rodney's deflation was subtle,  
for Rodney. "Never mind then." He pushed away from the table and reached for the  
nearby computer.

 

 

 

"Hey, hey! Sarcasm! We're guys;  
I thought maybe I'd deflect the part where I considered your feelings."

 

 

 

Rodney straightened, and smiled  
brightly. "Oh, right! Yes, yes, carry on."

 

 

 

Thinking carefully, John studied  
Rodney and said, with a straight face, "I'm not having sex on the Enterprise."

 

 

 

Rodney blinked, opened his mouth  
to say something, snapped it shut, and then blinked again.

 

 

 

Defeated, John shrugged  
nonchalantly. "Last night was not the time for the sweaty, life-altering,  
possibly career-altering, incredibly good, amazing, gay sex."

 

 

 

"I'm highly disturbed that you  
modeled that sentence after the title of a children's book."

 

 

 

John frowned. "I'm highly  
disturbed that of all things, you chose that to comment on." He stood, walked  
around the table to Rodney, grabbed his shoulders, and pulled him in close. "Let  
me assure you, that I'd like nothing more than to bend you over this table and  
play hide the turtle until we turn blue and collapse, but --" He slid his hand  
down Rodney's arm until it reached Rodney's fingers which automatically opened  
and spread letting him hook between them. "You and I both know it's a hell of a  
lot more than really good sex."

 

 

 

There was a lot of blinking, a  
quick, harsh swallow, a flush, and Rodney looking at him funny. "Hide the  
turtle?"

 

 

 

"We really need to talk about  
your priorities."

 

 

 

"And you really need to start  
reading more. Did you actually bring War and Peace, or did you just glue the  
cover onto something else?"

 

 

 

There was a snappy comeback just  
about to leave John's mouth, when a loud, piercing, grating sound erupted from  
the speakers on the wall.

 

 

 

Rodney went very pale. "Shit, I  
knew it!"

 

 

 

Plugging his ears, John glared  
at the wall. "Damnit. I knew it had been too quiet. And Kirk's been none too  
helpful with sharing the tactical information."

 

 

 

"So you have no idea what it  
could possibly be?"

 

 

 

"None at all."

 

 

 

The sound of it all didn't last  
that long and soon after the brittle quiet settled back in, the ship rocked,  
sending them both slamming into a wall, and then to the floor, and then...  
nothing.

 

 

 

The deck plates beneath John  
hummed with more energy than he'd felt in their entire visit. They didn't bother  
standing back up. John grabbed the closest computer with terminal access and  
handed it to Rodney, who immediately logged into the engine room stats and the  
main bridge sensors.

 

 

 

"Well, we're apparently  
patrolling the border along the Romulan Neutral Zone," Rodney muttered, tapping  
in more commands.

 

 

 

John frowned, squinting at the  
data. "How on earth do you know that?"

 

 

 

"Memorized the coordinates."

 

 

 

"You're kind of freakish." John  
poked at Rodneys leg. "Let me guess, you were trying to build some sort of  
three-dimensional Federation map."

 

 

 

Rodney harrumphed. "Eighth grade  
was very boring."

 

 

 

The ship bounced around a few  
more times, but it felt more like the inertial dampeners catching up to sudden  
movement, than a hit of any sort. He told Rodney as much, after one serious hard  
jolt had him holding John's arm so hard blood had stopped flowing.

 

 

 

"If you say so," Rodney yessed  
him, without even looking up from the data.

 

 

 

Eventually they found themselves  
placing bets on which power usage set would spike and the nominals they'd return  
to. Finally the ship settled down, and they settled on playing some form of  
demented version of free cell which involved five suits of cards each, with  
twenty in the set. It took them fifteen minutes to figure out the picture cards.

 

 

 

"Well, that's an interesting  
solution to the deck being knocked out from under you." Kirk's voice startled  
them from an in-depth strategy discussion that involved such important matters  
as arguing that his hair gel did not somehow affect his cognitive reasoning  
abilities, because he didn't use any hair gel, thank you very much.

 

 

 

John looked up and resisted the  
urge to come to attention, damn the man for being a leader anyway. "Well, we  
kept getting knocked down here. We figured we might as well stay. The frat party  
over?"

 

 

 

"The kegs are empty." Kirk  
offered a hand up.

 

 

 

Rodney took it and gave them  
both a disgusted look. "Okay, the fact that you two speak the same language is  
starting to scare me."

 

 

 

John pulled himself up and  
ignored the popping in his back. "So, Romulans, huh?"

 

 

 

Kirk waved a finger at them.  
"Spock really wants to know how you did that, by the way. I've never seen him so  
startled."

 

 

 

Kicking the carpet with the tip  
of his shoe, Rodney actually looked embarrassed. "I guessed the admin password."

 

 

 

Eyes wide, John slapped a hand  
on Rodney's shoulder. "You *hacked* the Enterprise?"

 

 

 

"And no one will be believe me."  
Rodney nodded mournfully.

 

 

 

Smiling wide, John remembered  
why there was making out the night before. He turned to Kirk. "So, don't suppose  
you're here to tell us what they wanted?"

 

 

 

When Kirk just smiled, John got  
that wonderful feeling in the pit of his stomach, sort of like a free fall he  
hadn't initiated.

 

   
******

 

   
It turned out the Romulans had  
noticed a series of strange emanations coming from the Enterprise.

 

 

 

"What are they, repressed  
Catholics? What's wrong with emanations?" Rodney waved his fingers about,  
tapping them against the air.

 

 

 

"Ex-Vulcans," John prompted.

 

 

 

Rodney deflated slightly,  
thinking about it. "Ok, you might possibly have a point."

 

 

 

McCoy coughed behind his hand.

 

 

 

"What's wrong with them," Spock  
interrupted, looking stern. "Is that they are possibly not like anything that  
would come from a starship that they are familiar with, and that they are coming  
from a starship near their borders."

 

 

 

Rodney slumped in his seat  
looking pensive. "Is it wrong to miss the Wraith? At least with them I  
understand their motivations."

 

 

 

Reaching out extra slowly, John  
knitted his brows and patted Rodney on the shoulder. "Yes, Rodney, it's  
completely sane and preferable to be on the big, scary alien's lunch menu."

 

 

 

"Just checking." Rodney looked  
less than reassured. "So, what now, we stop?"

 

 

 

Kirk nodded apologetically. "I'm  
afraid so. I've had Uhura add requested recall orders to our last packet.  
Assuming all goes well, we should  receive confirmation in the morning. After we  
finish out our last sweep, well head back to earth."

 

 

 

All the participants at the  
table were silent, letting the news sink in.

 

 

 

"I'll be continuing with the  
noninvasive research," Rodney stated, looking tense. "My only request is that  
you not get us killed or seriously maimed."

 

 

 

Leaning forward and looking only  
a little bit put upon, Kirk raised an eyebrow. "How about twisted ankles?"

 

 

 

Before Rodney or John could  
answer, Spock intervened. "Perhaps I can divert more of my time to help you,  
complete as much of the theoretical research as is possible."

 

 

 

Kirk regarded Spock for a long  
moment before giving a subtle nod and turning back to the proceedings.

 

 

 

John watched Rodney take a few  
deep breaths, obviously fighting something just under the surface. "Right, sure,  
it might be fun to listen to you attempt to be logical about the physics in this  
universe."

 

 

 

Spock raised an eyebrow and John  
held back laughter.

 

 

 

******

 

 

 

The beeps, whistles, and  
flashing lights of the small science lab didn't bother Rodney anymore. He  
supposed working in Atlantis had probably prepared him in some twisted way. It  
was just last week he'd likened his life to the bastard step-child of a book  
written by Anne Rice and Robert Heinlein -- with a smattering of Peter David  
thrown in for fun. Now that he was actually *in* a television show, he  
understood the depth and breadth of his misunderstanding.

 

 

 

Not that he was all that  
thrilled with his new understanding of the universe.

 

 

 

He bit his lip and poked at  
another equation.

 

 

 

Spock was on the other side of  
the room doing something mysterious to quantum physics. Rodney was really okay  
with not knowing the details. Because recently he'd started feeling like an  
overprotective babysitter to his favorite bits of Newtonian Physics, which was  
the sort of attitude he could do without. He had enough completely out of place  
feelings as it was, although at least those might end in sex.

 

 

 

Checking his email and not  
actually thinking about the fact that he now had an intraship memo address, he  
found Spock had sent him his latest theory; annotated, footnoted, with the math  
clearly spelled out. Possibly a little too clearly in some places -- perhaps his  
last remark about the likelihood of Spock understanding his highly advanced  
thought processes had gone a touch too far.

 

 

 

But damnit, he was not going to  
give into his baser instincts and fanboy all over the man either. "So, why did  
you do it?"

 

 

 

Spock tilted his head to the  
right, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Are you referring to the latest set of  
equations I sent you?"

 

 

 

Offended, Rodney's brow  
furrowed. "No. That thing you did, with the dieing." He couldn't believe he was  
actually asking. "Why did you do it?"

 

 

 

Spock gently placed his stylus  
on the table, leaned back, and touched his fingertips together in a classic  
move.  "The needs of the many--"

 

 

 

"--out weigh the needs of the  
few," Rodney interrupted. "Blah, blah, do you actually believe your own press?  
No, I mean why did you *really* do it?"

 

 

 

Spock looked mildly offended.

 

 

 

Wiping a hand over his face,  
Rodney gave Spock a serious eye. "There had to be another reason. How could your  
death have been the most logical step? Did it occur to you that your years of  
training, your experience, the whole that is more than the sum of your parts  
would be lost and that might have weighed differently compared to a junior  
officer just as capable of doing the simple repair?"

 

 

 

Obviously not expecting the  
question, Spock looked momentarily startled before settling in, his two pointer  
fingers resting gracefully against his mouth. "Are you implying that my life is  
worth more than a junior officer's?"

 

 

 

"Yes, fine. It is, if you want  
to generalize the whole thing."

 

 

 

Spock nodded. "For this  
argument, I concede the point."

 

 

 

The silence that descended on  
the room was tense. Rodney went back to his math, fist tight around his stylus.

 

 

 

"There are things one simply  
must do," Spock said finally.

 

 

 

Rodney's fist hit the table.  
"And Kirk? McCoy?" He breathed out raggedly. "The people you left behind? Did  
you think about them?"

 

 

 

"Until the moment I took my last  
breath." Spock's voice was deep and controlled.

 

 

 

A loud crack startled them both,  
and Rodney looked down to see the stylus in three uneven pieces in his hand. He  
slumped ungracefully. "Im sorry," he muttered before grabbing his computer pad  
and leaving.

 

 

 

******

 

 

 

McCoy found him two decks later  
and enticed him with a strong drink and the promise of that full medical exam  
he'd asked for.

 

 

 

Rodney slid onto the exam table  
absently. "I want to know everything that you fix in detail Maybe you could  
write out a report or something, to take back to Carson. He gets upset when any  
sort of alien technology gets used on us."

 

 

 

McCoy hummed and fixed some  
settings. "I wouldn't call this alien technology."

 

 

 

The little whirring saltshaker  
buzzed around his head and Rodney eyed it warily. "I say anything I can't build  
myself, if I was so inclined, is alien technology."

 

 

 

Making a 'well aren't you the  
amazing scientist' face, McCoy continued with his adjustments.. "So, any  
complaints?" he asked when he finally looked up.

 

 

 

"I'm deathly allergic to citrus,  
I'm hypoglycemic, I get these tension headaches, there's a knot at the level of  
my 5th and 6th vertebrae that never goes away, I think I'm starting to get a  
touch of arthritis, there's the possibility I'm getting a little far sighted, I  
have a bad back in general and the other day at lunch I could have sw--"

 

 

 

"Hold up a minute," McCoy  
interrupted. "Let's try this again. You," he pointed at Rodney, "sit there and  
don't speak."

 

 

 

Rodney harrumphed, but remained  
silent during the bulk of his examination, only speaking to comment on the  
uncomfortableness of the exam table, and the high-pitched whining of the devices  
possibly damaging the upper registries of his hearing.

 

 

 

"It is not." McCoy said, looking  
like he'd prefer to make Rodney eat the hypospray, instead of injecting him with  
it.

 

 

 

"What is that? What are you  
giving me?" Rodney attempted to squirm away from the cold metal, but McCoy's  
grip was surprisingly firm.

 

 

 

"Arsenic, great for the  
circulation." McCoy grinned evilly.

 

 

 

"What?" Rodney did not shriek.  
The crack was due to his overly dry throat, a direct symptom of the  
re-circulated air on the ship. He had the same problem on airplanes.

 

 

 

McCoy's big blue eyes were a  
mask of innocence. "Oh, does it work differently in your universe?"

 

 

 

Rodney waved his hands  
frantically, crawling up the table. "Yes! Yes it does!"

 

 

 

"Hmm. Didn't expect that." McCoy  
frowned absently and wrote something down.

 

 

 

Eyes narrowing and brain  
catching up, Rodney frowned. "You," he pointed an accusing finger, "are a  
horrible man."

 

 

 

Nodding cheerfully, McCoy made  
some more notes. "And you are the first person, aside from me and Jim, who's  
ever shaken up Spock so much in such little time."

 

 

 

"Shaken up?"

 

 

 

McCoy finally looked up, pinning  
Rodney with a stern gaze. "He used the word please three times in three  
sentences."

 

 

 

"Lack of imagination is a  
symptom of a broken Vulcan?"

 

 

 

"He was talking to *me*," McCoy  
clarified.

 

 

 

"Ah." Rodney said and promptly  
shut up.

 

 

 

A few minutes later, while he  
was laying down on the exam table again, not thinking about his left leg falling  
into a quick and soon to be painful sleep, McCoy spoke again.

 

"That brain of his can analyze,  
compartmentalize, statistify, and go back and do it all again in the time it  
takes me to think about which hypospray I want to use next."

 

 

 

Rodney stared up at the ceiling,  
which had never featured very prominently in any of the movies.

 

 

 

"He doesn't know why he did it  
the way he did." McCoy let out a long breath. "Jim probably couldn't explain  
half the life-endangering decisions he makes in quantifiable terms either." He  
laid a hand on Rodney's shoulder in what Rodney assumed was supposed to be a  
comforting manner. "It's what they do."

 

 

 

The ceiling was the same gray  
paneling as the rest of the ship, except it managed to exude some sort of light  
source. Interesting.

 

 

 

The hand on his shoulder  
squeezed. "They're stupid that way," McCoy said gently.

 

 

 

Rodney couldn't help but agree.

 

 

 

The exam continued, with McCoy  
adjusting things here and there. Vitamins, slight chemical imbalances, a virus  
that apparently was malingering in his system -- No wonder he'd felt a little  
off.

 

 

 

"Don't you get angry?" Rodney  
asked somewhere between the cellular scan and the eye check up.

 

 

 

"All the damn time." McCoy put  
down the long silver thing with the flashy lights and reached into a nearby  
cabinet, retrieving a long-necked bottle and two glasses. He poured them each a  
large portion. "Drink this and then we'll talk."

 

 

 

Rodney shook his head. "I'd  
rather remain sober, thank you very much."

 

 

 

McCoy took his drink in one  
swallow. "If we're going to have this conversation, I'd rather not."

 

 

 

"Well, okay then," Rodney took a  
mouthful of his own drink. "So tell me, have you people ever heard of AA?"

 

 

 

Pouring another himself another  
drink, McCoy gave him a mild glare. "Come back to me in twenty years and ask  
that question." He topped of Rodney's glass and then put the bottle away.  
"Besides, modern medicine makes it rather hard for the body to become addicted  
to a lot of the traditional substances."

 

 

 

Rodney stared at the amber  
liquid, its smoky color refracting the light. "Oh, well then, that's good I  
suppose."

 

 

 

"Nah." McCoy relaxed into his  
seat. "It just means the human race has found stupider and more dangerous ways  
of altering its chemical makeup."

 

 

 

"Well, as I've learned, the  
human race has an infinite capacity for idiocy." Rodney took a shallow sip.  
Whatever the stuff was, it was strong.

 

 

 

"I showed them up once," McCoy  
said thoughtfully into his own glass. "Got in and risked my life before they  
could get the chance to risk theirs."

 

 

 

Rodney didn't need to ask when,  
he was pretty sure he had a good idea of the episode-- event McCoy was referring  
to. "What'd they do?"

 

 

 

"After they were sure I wasn't  
going to die," McCoy smiled bitterly, "they practically grounded me. I felt  
fifteen for a few minutes there. Then I grounded them right back."

 

 

 

A small bark of laughter bubbled  
up in Rodney. "I was far too gone on stimulants and lack of sleep to argue with  
any sort of coherency." He watched McCoy raise an eyebrow. "And at that point  
I'd been yelling pretty much nonstop for about two months. It was soothing," he  
continued, rolling over whatever McCoy was going to say. "Anyway, by that point  
my raised voice wasn't going to do much more than possibly get me an eye roll or  
two."

 

 

 

McCoy studied him carefully.  
"How long ago was this?"

 

 

 

"A little more than a month."

 

 

 

"And have you made an effort to  
detox? Regain a normal sleeping cycle? Reduce stress?"

 

 

 

Rodney stared at his glass  
again, fairly sure McCoy didn't actually expect an answer, but oddly, he found  
one anyway. "Did you?"

 

 

 

Clear blue eyes gazed at Rodney  
from behind deep wrinkles. "Which time?" McCoy pursed his lips and tapped his  
fingers on his desk. "The time my best friend died? The time my other best  
friend died? The time the entire planet nearly died? Or that other time my best  
friend died?" He finished off his glass.

 

 

 

Clarity was like a fist in the  
gut, breathtaking and painful. "They do it because they love us." Rodney choked  
on the words, feeling hollow and devastatingly tired.

 

 

 

McCoy leaned back into his  
chair, reflecting a fraction of what Rodney was feeling. "Life's a bitch, ain't  
it?"

 

 

 

******

 

John looked up when Rodney  
entered the room. "Hey, I was doing a little research. Guess what I-- mmmphhm!"

 

 

 

Rodney clamped his hands on  
John's face, pulled him into a standing position and kissed him so fiercely  
Johns toes curled in his boots, his brain fizzled, and his awareness shrank  
into nothing more than the warmth of Rodney's hands and the soft wet sounds  
their lips made against each other.

 

 

 

They parted with a small sound  
of regret.

 

 

 

"I hate you." Rodney whispered  
into his ear.

 

 

 

Still catching his breath, John  
leaned back and looked at the crazy man hed just kissed. "You are the king of  
mixed signals."

 

 

 

Rodney's arms squeezed hard. "I  
dislike the sort of personal introspection you incite in me." He buried his face  
in John's shoulder and squeezed harder. "It makes the place behind my right eye  
throb, and that gives me a false positive for a brain tumor."

 

 

 

John squeezed back, rubbing down  
Rodney's spine. "I'm sorry? From now on, I'll attempt to limit my emotional  
interactions with you to somewhere between ape and sixteen-year-old boy."

 

 

 

"That's very nice of you,"  
Rodney said to his neck.

 

 

 

John let them stand like that  
until the subtle trembling in Rodney's arms subsided and the death grip he had  
on John's ribcage relaxed moderately. "Wanna know what I found?"

 

 

 

Rodney painted small kisses  
along his neck, each one leaving behind a pleasurable shiver. "You already  
showed me the chess thing." The words were muffled into his skin, warm  
vibrations, sweet and pleasurable.

 

 

 

"Not the chess thing," John  
murmured into Rodney's hair. "I found a comprehensive history of the  
Federation."

 

 

 

Rodney's glazed eyes looked at  
him a little muzzily. "I think Im fairly well versed in Federation history."

 

 

 

John kissed him again, enjoying  
the feel of muscle under his hands, of solid warmth leaning into him. "I heard  
the tirade about the Enterprise you subjected Simpson to last month."

 

 

 

"The events of Enterprise are  
actually part of the time line? What? Where is this text?"

 

 

 

Rodney pushed him away, and was  
sitting at the desk so quickly John was fairly sure there was an afterimage  
burned into his retinas. He left behind a low buzz of arousal.

 

 

 

There were several long  
drawn-out minutes of reading before Rodney clapped his hands together and made a  
sound of triumph. "Ha! I knew Rick Berman had his head up his ass!"

 

 

 

Oddly proud, and not willing to  
really examine why, John let his hand close over Rodney's hunched shoulders,  
rubbing out the tense muscles.

 

 

 

"Oh wow. Don't stop." Rodney  
said after the first slow roll.

 

 

 

Not bothering to answer, John  
let his thumbs dig in, feeling out the muscles and pushing them under his palm.

 

 

 

Rodney slumped bonelessly over  
the desk, head cradled in his arms. "Youll be the death of me," he muttered.

 

 

 

John paused, leaning closer,  
"Death by massage?"

 

 

 

"By heart-stopping heroics."  
Rodney twisted out from under his grasp, his eyes holding that small spark of  
desperation again. "I get it now, that throwing yourself bodily in harms way is  
completely instinctual on your part. Could you just--" Rodney stopped and  
swallowed thickly, hand reaching out to John's. "Could you just attempt to  
listen to other people once in a while before you do it?"

 

 

 

Throat tight and not really sure  
how to answer, not really sure that he could, he tugged Rodney up to stand next  
to him, they leaned against each other, foreheads touching, sharing breath.  
"Rumor has it you've had a very long day." He tugged at Rodney gently, leading  
them both to his bedroom. "Let's get some sleep."

 

 

 

The quiet wrapped around them,  
heavy with unspoken words. Rodney shrugged off his clothing, before wrapping his  
hands around John's, stopping him from doing the same. Then Rodney carefully  
unbuttoned and unzipped him, fingers warm and sweaty as they passed over his  
thighs. They tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head with quick  
efficiency, and carefully pushed him down on the bed so Rodney could take care  
of his socks.

 

 

 

John scooted back, leaving  
plenty of room for Rodney to join him, which he did after long seconds of just  
looking. The bed dipped and his heart did a small double-beat as he watched  
Rodney crawl up to him and settle beside him, one heavy arm possessively wrapped  
around his chest.

 

 

 

John returned the favor and  
turned the lights off. "Good night Rodney," he whispered, lips brushing past the  
shell of an ear.

 

 

 

Rodney wiggled a bit and sighed  
loudly. "You snore, you're landing on the floor."

 

 

 

******

 

 

 

They woke up in a sweaty,  
drooling mess, or at least, Rodney did. The skin under his face was warm and  
slightly slick and there was a whole load of denial about where most of that  
moisture came from. He wiped the grit out of his eyes and blinked the blur away.

 

 

 

Beneath his other hand, John  
shifted, stretching, lean muscles pulling tight, making Rodney's breath catch.

 

 

 

" G'morning." John mumbled into  
his hair.

 

 

 

"Coffee," Rodney said into the  
vicinity of Johns shoulder.

 

 

 

"It's pronounced John."

 

 

 

Rodney wiped a hand over his  
face again and shook his head. "Coffee."

 

 

 

John kissed him softly, hands  
tracing gently over his face. He was slowly pushed back down to the bed when  
John ended it with one soft peck in apology and left him alone, blinking in  
confusion.

 

 

 

He was almost asleep when John  
returned, a tantalizing smell wafting around him. He cracked an eye open and  
imagined little cartoon whirls of steam dancing around John in some demented  
muppet sketch from hell.

 

 

 

The wisps were just starting to  
tap dance when John presented the cup Rodney, who not being an idiot, even  
pre-caffeinated, took it gratefully. Bittersweet flavor exploded over his  
tongue, hot and strong and full of stimulants. He closed his eyes in bliss.

 

 

 

"Should I be jealous?" John  
sounded amused.

 

 

 

Rodney took another sip. "Yes."

 

 

 

The coffee was unceremoniously  
taken away, and Rodney most certainly didn't whimper and nearly trail after it  
bodily, lips leading the charge, as it was placed on the table beside the bed.  
John sank to his knees on the floor, leaned in and kissed the remaining bits of  
coffee out of Rodney's mouth.

 

 

 

Of course, it was coffee, so  
Rodney did what he could to chase that elusive nectar of the gods back into  
John's mouth. He reached out, one hand splaying across the back of John's neck,  
pulling him closer. They ended up sprawled on the bed, John's body comfortably  
wedged between Rodney's legs.

 

 

 

Someone did something fantastic  
with their hips, and it wasn't about coffee anymore, not that it really had been  
in the first place. John made a little hitching sound and attached his lips to  
Rodney's neck, sucking softly, and that felt so tremendously good that it took a  
full five seconds for Rodney to stop his eyes from rolling into the back of his  
skull. His hands traced the carefully flexing muscles of Johns back, scratching  
skin when John's teeth nipped wetly.

 

 

 

John's hips jerked, pressing  
Rodney into the mattress. Rodney scratched again lightly, and John twitched,  
hands tightening. Rodney felt the strong palm behind his neck tense and flex. He  
scratched again, shuddering as the noise John made curled his toes.

 

 

 

It was suddenly a razor edge,  
delicious sensations flying high as they both groaned and ground into each  
other. Rodney licked a patch of skin behind John's ear.

 

 

 

John gasped. "I thought-- oh  
yeah, do that again--" He hooked their hands together, lacing fingers tightly  
and drawing their arms above Rodney's head. "We should revise that whole--"  
Rodney licked some more, "mnguhrevise that whole sex on the Enterprise policy."

 

 

 

Rodney wrapped his legs firmly  
around John and rolled his lower body up and then down in a languid thrust, the  
sensation rolling over him in waves.

 

 

 

They kissed frantically, one set  
of hands releasing to reach underwear, peeling their respective boxers down just  
enough to release aching erections, Rodney nearly arched off the bed when John's  
sweaty hand closed over his cock, pumping experimentally, rubbing a thumb over  
the sensitive head.

 

 

 

The ended up on their sides,  
Rodney's left hand still entwined with John's right and stretched above them,  
legs tangled and bent leaving just enough room between them for their free hands  
to reach and find each other.

 

 

 

The firm flesh in Rodney's hand  
captured his full attention, until John gave another experimental squeeze that  
left him shuddery and panting. "going" Rodney gave a squeeze of his own,  
delighted at the quivering of muscle under his legs, "to kill" he ignore the  
breathy tone of his voice as John gave an upward stroke, "me"

 

 

 

John rested his forehead against  
Rodney's eyes, suspiciously wide, and the gesture itself made something hitch  
deep in Rodney's chest. John's lips stretched into a dazzling smile and he  
kissed Rodney, lips firm and wet, tongue thrusting in and out. The kiss ended  
with one last lick, and John returned his forehead to Rodney's. "But what a way  
to go."

 

 

 

John's voice was soft as he said  
it and it made Rodney's heart clench painfully. The sudden inability to look  
John in the eye came on so hard and fast he lost what little he had left of his  
breath.

 

 

 

Burying his head in John's chest  
and holding his hand tightly, Rodney did the only thing he could think of. He  
gave long, even strokes to John's cock, and took in the small, breathy sounds  
John was making, letting them sink into his skin and work their way deep inside.  
Each noise made something inside him expand, until his lungs felt too tight and,  
his own pleasure spiraled out of control.

 

 

 

Orgasm was like a freight train  
running over his chest. He convulsed so strongly one of them was going to have  
bruises in a few hours, and he felt like he was being turned inside-out from the  
cock up.

 

 

 

He assumed John was similarly  
devastated from the trembling arms and the uncoordinated kisses being peppered  
from his collar bone to his chest.

 

 

 

Rodney wiped his hand on the  
bedclothes, grateful for the handy linen dispensers in the corner. He couldnt  
resist threading his clean hand into John's thick, insane hair. Raking through  
it, he enjoyed making it even more wild than usual.

 

 

 

"Having fun?" John's voice was  
rough, and his hand, telltale tremble and all, did a little sideswipe of  
Rodneys cheekbone, a shock of warmth on his cooling skin.

 

 

 

"Nope. Worst morning ever."  
Rodney poked John in the chest. "Someone didn't let me finish my coffee."

 

 

 

John poked him back. "That  
soulless bastard." He smoothed over the spot after Rodney winced. "I could have  
had a better morning too," he said casually, lopsided smile sitting crookedly on  
his face.

 

 

 

"Oh really?" Rodney tried to ask  
just as casually, but he couldn't stop his hand from freezing where it was, in  
the middle of caressing John's upper arm.

 

 

 

"Yep. I had sex with someone who  
had coffee breath." He gave Rodney a manly punch in the arm. "And I didn't mind  
it one bit."

 

 

 

"Yeah, well," Rodney said  
huffily. "I'm pretty sure your hair got in my eye." He gave John a look,  
thinking very hard about the exchange they were having. He swallowed hard. "I  
didn't mind it much either."

 

 

 

John licked his lips and somehow  
put on a serious face amidst bed head, flushed and sweaty skin, and dirty  
sheets. "Glad we're on the same page here."

 

 

 

Glistening, pouting lips aside,  
Rodney was glad too, despite the fact he now felt it was simply a waiting game  
until he got to watch John narrowly escape death yet again. Only this time,  
Rodney would know exactly why that balled-up knot of tension rested in his  
chest, or his words got caught in the back of his throat, or why his eyes stung  
when John's voice finally came over the comm. It would be the same reason John  
would act without thinking twice, without discussion and without exception, no  
matter how many promises Rodney managed to wring out of him.

 

 

 

"Hey." John's soft voice  
interrupted his thoughts. Something must have shown on his face.

 

 

 

Rodney rolled out of bed. "So, I  
bet both of us could fit into these showers." He hadn't used any of his water  
allocation yet, far too intrigued by the sonics onboard. He hoped to be able to  
reproduce them some day, using real physics, of course.

 

 

 

John's eyes told him he wasn't  
fooled for a minute, but he let it go, rolling out as well. "Race you," he said,  
elbowing Rodney in the side.

 

 

 

"Cheater!" Rodney called after,  
thoughts already lost in images of John wet and slick with soap, even as he took  
his first step.

 

   
******

 

   
They did eventually make it out  
of the room, managing to avoid looking like lovesick teenagers.

 

 

 

He peeked at Rodney out of the  
corner of his eye, just as Rodney did the same to him. John looked away quickly,  
and could feel two pinpricks of heat blossom across his cheeks.

 

 

 

Well, almost avoid.

 

 

 

After leaving the mess, he noted  
Rodney's cheerful disposition; the sparkle in his eyes and the slight bounce to  
his step. Then again, they were heading towards the science labs, so perhaps the  
unbelievable sex had little to do with it.

 

 

 

John stopped abruptly. "Are you  
*humming*?"

 

 

 

Rodney gave him the 'do I have  
to break out the Rorschach on your ass?' face. It was oddly endearing.

 

 

 

John threw his hands up in  
surrender. "Right, not humming."

 

 

 

As they walked the hallways,  
John noticed a lot of the crew looked fairly chipper themselves, Kirk had  
wandered over to their table in the mess and informed them that Starfleet had  
agreed to their early return. He'd bet a month's pay the rumor had already hit  
the mills.

 

 

 

"Spock to Dr. McKay."

 

 

 

John spun on his heal, hand  
automatically going for the radio that wasn't there. "I will *never* get used to  
that."

 

 

 

Rodney rolled his eyes and  
headed for the nearest comm. "McKay here."

 

 

 

"Dr. McKay, are you in the lab?"

 

 

 

Eyebrows gathering, Rodney shook  
his head at the intercom. "Not yet. What's wrong?"

 

 

 

"I programmed the internal  
sensors to alert me anytime an energy signature similar to the ones you were  
working with appeared within the Enterprise. I received such an alert a few  
minutes ago. Did you perhaps leave some of the equipment on?"

 

 

 

Rodney scowled darkly. Shifting  
weight to one leg, he leaned against the wall, getting comfortable. "Yes, that's  
exactly what I did, because I'm some addle-brained moron who likes to play with  
dangerous toys because all those blinking lights are pretty!"

 

 

 

John smiled as Rodney's cheeks  
flushed and the skin on his thumb whitened as he pushed harder on the button. He  
was fairly sure he heard chuckling in the background. John thought about  
suggesting a more personal means of communication to Kirk.

 

 

 

"Dr. McKay." Spock's voice  
sounded alarmingly real and intimidating, even coming out of the small silver  
speaker. "If you would kindly hurry to the lab and make sure than none of your  
experiments have been tampered with, I'm sure we would all sit easier,  
considering we are still well within range of the Romulan border."

 

 

 

If possible, Rodney's frown  
deepened, causing his lips to purse. "Well, you could have said that in the  
first place. I'll be there in five minutes." His hand made a loud smacking noise  
as he released the button with extra force, then he winced and shook it rapidly.

 

John decided it would be politic  
not to say anything. "Was that the same hand you hit me with?" Well, almost  
nothing.

 

 

 

Rodney nodded.

 

 

 

"And the wall?"

 

 

 

Rodney glared and stalked off  
towards the labs.

 

 

 

Well, at least John hadn't lost  
his touch.

 

 

 

He caught up to Rodney in the  
lab itself, having gotten lost two or three times along the way. Enjoying the  
view of Rodney's quick strides had taken Rodney beyond his visual range in just  
a few seconds.

 

 

 

Shaking his head, John  
double-checked the placard next to the door before entering. He really needed to  
get that reaction under control.

 

 

 

Rodney was moving around between  
pieces of equipment and talking into the air. It was a sight that was always  
entertaining.

 

 

 

"I'm telling you, nothing is  
different!"

 

 

 

"Nevertheless, my instruments  
did not imagine the reading."

 

 

 

Rodney crossed his arms and  
braced one hip on the side of the desk, rolling his eyes upward. "I'm sorry,  
maybe my mind is going and these dials and wires and gizmos aren't in the off  
position. Does off mean something different here that I perhaps wasn't aware  
of?"

 

 

 

"No, Dr. McKay, it does not." If  
possible, Spock's voice sounded more wooden than usual. Maybe that was Vulcan  
sarcasm.

 

 

 

There was a barely audible click  
signaling the end of the conversation, and Rodney slumped into a nearby chair.

 

 

 

John sat next to him, finding  
his usual sprawl oddly comfortable in the Enterprise chairs. "So, is it possible  
someone messed with your stuff and then put it all back?"

 

 

 

Rodney eyed him through the  
fingers covering his face. "Sabotage?"

 

 

 

"An accident." John resisted  
running a thumb down the exposed skin on the back of Rodney's neck. "Maybe  
someone leaned on something wrong?"

 

 

 

Sighing deeply, Rodney pushed  
off the table and headed over toward a panel off to his left. "I'll check the  
logs."

 

 

 

The next hour or so was spent  
sitting side by side, going through tedious log files, and studiously not acting  
like little girls. John was thirty-seven years old; he did not smile shyly every  
time Rodney brushed an elbow against his side.

 

 

 

John paged to the next log just  
as warmth suffused his arm, all the way up to his shoulder. To his right, Rodney  
shifted in his seat, settling onto his left side, elbow on table, leaning  
heavily into John.

 

 

 

Automatically John took a quick  
survey of the room, confirming what he already knew, that they were alone,  
before leaning into the touch. He slid his right hand up Rodney's forearm until  
his fingers could wrap around Rodneys wrist. John could feel the muscles under  
his thumb, flexing as Rodney moved to face him. He could hear the faint catch in  
Rodney's breathing and he smiled, deliberately moving  his hand past the hint of  
bone and tendon, and into Rodney's palm.  Their fingers automatically threaded  
and John could feel his cheeks hurting from the smile he couldn't quite wipe  
away.

 

 

 

"Well -" Rodney stopped to clear  
the roughness out of his voice. "This is different."

 

 

 

Licking his lip, John carefully  
placed their entwined hands on the table between them. "Different universe,  
different rules."

 

 

 

Rodney made a sort of "hmm"  
noise, quick and high pitched, like he understood, but was still pretty  
surprised. Truth be told, John was pretty surprised too. They continued with  
their log readings as if their entwined hands resting between them was the most  
natural thing in the world for a while, until finally, Rodney pushed his away  
with a sound of disgust. "We're nearly twelve hours before the sensor anomaly,  
It's pointless to go any further."

 

 

 

John sighed and pushed his own  
computer away, rolling his neck and squeezing the hand he still held gently.

 

 

 

"Spock to Dr. McKay, what are  
you doing?"

 

 

 

Well, at that very second,  
Rodney was pretty much clinging to the ceiling.

 

 

 

Reaching across the table, John  
hit the intercom, pretending to be nonchalant despite the fact that his own  
heart rate was probably now up in the hundreds. "We just finished looking over  
the logs for any anomalies and were discussing what to do next."

 

 

 

"So then nothing has been turned  
on?"

 

 

 

Rodney squeaked behind him and  
John chuckled into his hand, turning it into a cough. "Not a thing, as  
originally ordered."

 

 

 

"The energy reading is back, and  
it has doubled in strength."

 

 

 

Rodney immediately recovered,  
snagged one of the lab tricorders, and started taking readings. John helped by  
not thinking about how hot it looked.

 

 

 

Brow furrowed and lips pressed  
together, Rodney walked around the room in a haphazard grid-like pattern. "It's  
not coming from here." Like a dog following a trail, Rodney wound his way out of  
the room and down the corridor.

 

 

 

"I'll follow him and make sure  
he reports in at some point," John said, closing the connection.

 

 

 

He followed Rodney for two decks  
and three lengthwise sections before the first tremors of the deck plates  
reached them, and the blaring of the red alert assaulted his ears.

 

 

 

"Kirk to Sheppard, I don't  
suppose you've had any luck?"

 

 

 

Rodney shook his head swiftly,  
and John hit the nearest intercom. "We're closer, but not there yet."

 

 

 

"Keep working. Kirk out."

 

 

 

Now John was back in familiar  
territory; the enemy closing in, and time running out. He reached automatically  
for his sidearm, tensing as his fingers touched but air. He made a fist and  
clenched it tightly, following closely behind McKay.

 

 

 

The ship rocked again, more  
violently, throwing them both to the floor. Rodney hissed and cursed as he  
crawled to where the tricorder had fallen. John managed to get to his feet first  
and pulled Rodney up from the ever-changing floor by the forearms.

 

"That way!" Rodney yelled above  
the racket that had sprung up around them. People had appeared from nowhere, and  
with each rock of the ship, the cacophony of voices got louder.

 

 

 

John nodded and took the extra  
precaution of keeping his hand wrapped around Rodney's arm. They fell into the  
wall two or three more times, but managed to stay upright.

 

 

 

"Here!" Rodney stopped abruptly,  
"behind that--"

 

 

 

His words were cut off by a  
muffled explosion. Before John could assess the situation further, the world  
flashed hot and yellow, something hit his midsection and then everything went  
black and cold.

 

 

 

******

 

 

 

Rodney woke up to someone  
shaking him.

 

 

 

"Rodney." John's voice was only  
a whisper above his face. "Can you move?"

 

 

 

Pain lancing across his  
midsection told Rodney that at the very least, his neck wasn't broken.  
"Possibly." Speaking woke up the rest of his body, and the sharp pain in his  
calf gave him some minor reassurance that there wasnt paralyzation from the  
waist down. He wondered if the Star Trek universe had tetanus.

 

 

 

"Rodney!' John's voice sounded  
scratchy and frantic. "Come on, we need to get out of here if we can. Those blue  
sparkly things keeping back the vacuum don't look too stable."

 

 

 

Blue sparkly thin-- Rodney's  
eyes popped open. "Shields? Actual shields I can see with my own eyes?" Oh god,  
his throat really hurt and he felt bruised in weird ways. A flash of memory had  
him closing his eyes again; they'd been exposed to vacuum for a precious few  
seconds. He shivered.

 

 

 

"Rodney?" John asked again, this  
time prodding him.

 

 

 

"Yes, I'm here," he said, slowly  
sitting up, grateful for the assistance John gave him. He found himself leaning  
against John's chest, head resting on the other man's shoulder. John smelled  
like a combination of smoke and burnt chemicals Rodney couldnt recognize, and  
beneath that, blood and sweat. Johns underlying scent was reassuring and  
familiar.

 

 

 

The area around them was  
wrecked. Walls were partially crumpled, beams half torn down and-- "Oh."

 

 

 

John nodded, helping Rodney  
stand the rest of the way. "I know, it's damn pretty when it's not trying to  
kill you."

 

 

 

The view of the stars from  
behind the shield was crystal clear. Bright sparkling lights, thousands of years  
old, twinkled at Rodney from a darkness that was indescribable; holding depth  
and breadth of unseen proportions. No shadows, no deviation in color, yet it  
hinted at vastness Rodney couldn't begin to grasp.

 

 

 

Rodney reached out  
automatically, wanting to touch, but stopped himself before he looked too  
foolish. "If there weren't only two or three utterly insane rules of non-physics  
between us and the coldness of space, I'd say this was almost romantic." He gave  
John a crooked smile. "Aside from the wreckage and the blood and the possible  
internal bleeding."

 

 

 

"You've been reading Biro's  
romance novels haven't you?" John asked dryly.

 

 

 

"What if I have?" Rodney  
sniffed. "Sufficient drivel like that can occupy a small percentage of my  
consciousness and I can still use my enormous brain power to work on other  
problems."

 

 

 

John gave him a withering look.  
"Rodney, if you read romance novels, I have a secret passion for musicals."

 

 

 

Looking around for his tricorder  
amidst the wreckage, because it held some important data and it might be useful  
in getting out of there, Rodney shrugged. "You'd make a pretty good Curly."

 

 

 

"I am not a cowboy."

 

 

 

Rodney spied the corner of black  
casing. "I win," he said smugly, retrieving it. "And, you so ar." He bent and  
many, many pains made themselves known again. "Ow."

 

 

 

John limped over and helped him  
back up again. "Whatever you say, Laurey."

 

 

 

Glaring, Rodney poked at the  
tricorder, relieved that it still worked. "I am not blonde, and I am not a  
farmer's daughter."

 

 

 

"Well." John looked at Rodney  
thoughtfully. "You do have Ado Annie's build."

 

 

 

Rodney stopped his button  
pushing abruptly. "For someone who used my supposed lack of romance novel  
addiction as his proof for his lack of musical love, your vast knowledge of the  
subject makes me think I'll find a stack of novels by my bedside. Each with a  
half naked man looking more oiled up than the next."

 

 

 

"You should see me tap dance."  
John patted Rodney on the shoulder and gave him a saucy grin. "Let's get out of  
here. Lead on, McDuff."

 

 

 

"Oh my god, I don't even want to  
know who youd cast as the King."

 

 

 

They limped and ouched their way  
about ten feet in what looked like the clearer direction. Their slow progress  
was hindered by their injuries; crawling and twisting through small spaces hurt  
quite a bit for both of them. In addition, John's somewhat sprained ankle was  
also holding them back.

 

 

 

John was pale and sweating as he  
leaned against the bulkhead. "So I'm guessing the reason we're the only ones  
walking around in this section is because of that shove you gave me?" His eyes  
were closed and Rodney could make out the deep circles on his pale skin.

 

 

 

Rodney swallowed hard. "The  
tricorder was recording energy signals. I had a fairly good idea of what was  
going to happen next."

 

 

 

"Well, thanks. You pushed me far  
enough away from the blast zone but close enough to that pipe that before I  
blacked out, I made sure we wouldnt get sucked out into space."

 

 

 

Rodney took a careful look at  
their surroundings. "So I'm assuming that anyone who was within this section  
either made it out before the bulkhead got sealed off, or were sucked out into  
space before the shield went up."

 

 

 

"I only saw two or three  
people," John said, before pushing off and moving again. "How much further until  
the sealed bulkhead?"

 

 

 

Taken up with the too-still hand  
reaching out from under some rubble, Rodney didn't answer. The fingers were  
spread, reaching for something, mid-motion.

 

 

 

"Rodney?" John came up behind  
him, hand curling over his shoulder, palm pressing into the bone that lay  
closest to the surface. It took him only a few seconds to follow Rodney's gaze.  
"I guess some people got caught in between," he said quietly.

 

 

 

"This is our fault." Rodney  
swallowed thickly, feeling his stomach cramp with nausea. "This is about us."

 

 

 

John squeezed his shoulder,  
giving a small push of momentum. "They're explorers, Rodney. They walked onto  
this ship knowing they might never walk off it."

 

 

 

Rodney took a few tentative  
steps, stopping in front of a pile of debris, only partially thinking about how  
to get around it. "Like the stargate," he sighed. This was a bigger conversation  
that he just didn't have the energy for at the moment. He poked at the beam  
cutting their free space in half. "How's your ankle?"

 

 

 

 John eyed the space wearily.  
"If we're going to crawl, it's my wrist and knee I'm more worried about."

 

 

Rodney jerked to get a closer  
look at John, noting the small patches of blood amidst the rips and tears of his  
uniform. Johns knee looked like a bloody mess and his wrist was swollen and  
purpling. He winced and made a sympathetic noise.

 

 

 

"Hey," John said sheepishly.  
"You don't look so hot yourself."

 

 

 

"I always look good," Rodney  
snapped automatically. "Now get to your knees."

 

 

 

John smirked.

 

 

 

"You are such a twelve year  
old." Rodney rolled his eyes as he turned to brace himself on the most stable  
thing he could find to lower himself to the ground. The movement also hid his  
own grimace of pain.

 

 

 

There was a lot of hissing and  
sudden stops as something would suddenly hurt, sharp and hot. The last final  
slither on their stomachs left them both panting and sweating on the floor.

 

 

 

John took a few extra seconds to  
join Rodney in his uncomfortable sprawl, looking paler than was healthy. "Well,  
let's never do that again," he wheezed, falling back against the deck plating.

 

 

 

"Agreed," Rodney said, also  
winded, so the word came out with a large gust of air. "Good thing that's the  
bulkhead over there." Rodney pointed to the large, ominous steel wall blocking  
the corridor. "Give me a minute and I'll crawl over there and risk permanent  
damage to see if the communications panel attached to it is still functioning."

 

 

 

"Rodney." John's voice was level  
and serious. "I think you have a problem."

 

 

 

Rodney blinked and squinted hard  
that the panel. "It looks pretty good from here."

 

 

 

John shook his head. "No,  
Rodney, it doesn't."

 

 

 

Rodneys heart took a long leap  
through his chest as he started his slow crawl. "What are you seeing?"

 

 

 

"A man who obviously bought and  
memorized the technical manuals. More than likely you revised them as soon as  
they came out."

 

 

 

Rodney peered back and saw John  
shaking his head mournfully. "Yeah, well, you're sleeping with someone who  
rebuilt the A/V club from the ground up, get over it."

 

 

 

"I dunno, that might be a deal  
breaker."

 

 

 

"I'd worry more if you hadn't  
been just as excited as I was that Berman was wrong," Rodney said dryly.

 

 

 

John waved a swollen wrist at  
him. "Just get us hooked up with some sort of communication and I'll crown you  
queen of the next Star Trek convention we run across."

 

 

 

"I'm not really sure I'm okay  
with this habit you have of emasculating me," Rodney complained as he dragged  
himself to his feet. "If that's going to be the trend in this relationship, I  
may have to start the nagging early." The panel lit up when he pressed the  
button. "Well, it has power," he announced.

 

 

 

"Relationship?" John sounded  
surprised, but not necessarily in a bad way.

 

 

 

Flashing to a bad experience  
with an intercom from his early university years, Rodney made sure to disengage  
the switch before replying. "Yes, I plan on sucking your dick sometime in the  
near future, and unlike your 'I'll put out on the first date' ways, I usually  
prefer to have some sort of relationship with the dick in question before it  
gets near my mouth."

 

 

 

John made a strangled sound and  
then cleared his throat. "So, this morning was a get-to-know-you handshake?"

 

 

 

Rodney gave John a coy look, or  
as coy as he could get when every three inches on his body had a different sort  
of hurt. "Well, mom always did tell me not to talk to strangers." He paused.  
"Funnily enough, she kept bringing me to her board meetings and telling me to  
talk as much as possible. Huh."

 

 

 

"Well, that was a mood killer."  
John smiled and then looked thoughtful, "You know, something tells me McCoy  
wouldn't bat an eyelash at someone coming in limping and with a barely hidden  
hard-on."

 

 

 

"I'm going to work on this  
communications panel now," Rodney decided.

 

 

 

"Your decisiveness is kinda  
hot," John called to his back.

 

 

 

"Working," Rodney sing-songed.  
He flipped the switch again, sighing gratefully when the panel flickered to  
life, even though the basic diagnostic turned up absolutely nothing. Shrugging,  
he gave it a shot. "McKay to the bridge."

 

 

 

"Bridge here." Kirk's voice came  
back almost instantaneously. "And glad to hear you. We just got internal sensors  
back in that area, is the other life form we're reading Sheppard?"

 

 

 

"It is, sir." John said from  
where he sat. "We'd very much like to leave this section, if it's all the same  
to you. Sickbay is sounding pretty appealing right about now."

 

 

 

Kirk's chuckle came across with  
unexpected warmth. "Bones'll be practically giddy with excitement to hear that.  
Medics were dispatched as soon as we had confirmation that the structural  
shields were holding."

 

 

 

"So we just sit here?" Rodney  
was absolutely thrilled at the prospect.

 

 

 

"You'll be out soon, Dr. McKay,"  
Kirk assured. "I'll meet you two in sickbay. Kirk out."

 

 

 

Rodney released the button.  
"Charismatic leader, that one," he muttered.

 

 

 

"I was going to say decisive."  
John patted the space next to him. "Come on, have a seat."

 

 

 

Rodney started towards the  
proffered spot and then froze. "Wait, are you saying you find Kirk kinda hot'?"

 

 

 

John stared at him, blinked, and  
then fell over laughing. He was still laughing when the bulkhead slid open a  
full minute later. The medics rushed in and stopped, staring in confusion.

 

 

 

"He's obviously got some sort of  
traumatic brain injury." Rodney moved painfully over to the nearest stretcher.  
"Maybe you should sedate him or something."

 

 

 

John wiped the tears from his  
face. "Ignore him," he hiccupped. "And help me up."

 

 

 

******

 

It turned out John and Rodney were among the worst of  
the injuries.

 

"There's this funny feeling, it's sort of like deja vu," Rodney muttered.

 

John rolled his eyes. "Do I have the equivalent of Mothra's cousin stuck to my  
neck?"

 

Rodney glared.

 

"Then I'm happy."

 

McCoy stopped his examination of John's wrist.. "Do I want to know?"

 

John shook his head, grimacing. "Not really, no." He looked around to see Kirk  
watching them off on the sidelines. "So, can I ask what happened?"

 

Kirk looked at him ruefully. "Romulan with a twitchy trigger finger, my own bad  
judgement." He shrugged. "I didn't actually think he was going to fire quite  
yet."

 

"How young was he?"

 

Kirk chuckled quietly. "Hard to tell, but I'd wager on too young."

 

"Oh my god!"

 

John was off the table in a heartbeat only to realize it was just Rodney being  
Rodney. McCoy patted the exam table condescendingly. John was glad the worst of  
the ankle and knee trouble had been already taken care of. He hopped back up.  
"Care to enlighten us Rodney?"

 

Rodney looked at him with wide eyes. "I'm a moron, that's all."

 

Oh, this was going to be good. "And?"

 

Rodney glared, but went on. "It has to be them."

 

"Them?" Kirk asked.

 

"Atlantis! Or more specifically, I'll bet it was Radek."

 

John perked up immediately, and then hissed from the sudden pain.

 

McCoy grabbed his wrist forcefully. "Stop moving and it won't hurt as much."

 

John reminded himself that he wasnt a sulker. "Is there any way we can help  
them?"

 

Rodney thought about it and then turned to Kirk. "Possibly not being in a  
position where we can get blown up might help."

 

"Already done." Kirk made an undefined gesture. "As soon as we disengaged, I had  
Uhura send a priority message to Starfleet, letting them know we were getting  
the hell out of here before any more of my people got killed because of someone  
who got promoted before they were ready."

 

He and John shared a dark, tired, knowing look. The sense of connection made  
John's heart pick up just a bit, adrenaline spiking and making him queasy.  
Hero's weren't supposed to be quite so human. He wasn't supposed to understand  
the main character's plight quite so easily. He shook his head and faked another  
wince. McCoy didn't look fooled, and his glare softened around the edges.

 

Rodney's complaining voice broke through his melodrama. "Is it possible to get  
clothes with a little less of a breeze?"

 

John looked down at his own ripped and torn clothing. They'd managed to keep  
their own up until then, the cleaning apparatuses in their quarters had managed  
just fine with the basic daily dirtying. He poked at one of the especially long  
openings, the fabric flapping beneath his fingers. "Something a little less  
Swiss cheese-like might be a good idea.

 

 

******

 

"This is Kirk's idea of a joke," Rodney said morosely, staring at their new  
clothing.

 

John held back a chuckle. "Probably." If Kirk had really wanted, John was fairly  
sure he could have come up with something other than spare officer's uniforms.

 

Then again, at least it hadn't been spare jump suits. The very closeted gay man  
hidden deep inside his psyche wanted to faint at the thought. John just shrugged  
and reached for the pants.

 

It was more complicated getting dressed than John would have liked to admit,  
though judging from the cursing and varied muttered complaints from the other  
side of the room, Rodney wasn't having much more luck.

 

"Whoever designed these things had a closer than healthy relationship with  
Torquemada's teachings," Rodney huffed, fighting with the fly of his pants. John  
snorted, walked across the room, batted Rodney's fumbling hands away. and sealed  
the opening with a quick flick of fingers If he lingered just a bit, he wasn't  
telling.

 

The soft whine of Rodney's breathing got his pulse racing enough to reach over  
and pull Rodney over to him, lips colliding in a gentle bump. The kiss, just shy  
of sizzling, rattled over his nerves, waking up hidden places and making his  
arms clasp more firmly around Rodney. Pulling him close, John enjoyed feeling  
the hint of softness at his belly and the firm presence at his chest.

 

They broke apart and Rodney's glazed eyes blinked at him. "Now, how on Earth am  
I supposed to think clearly for the next few hours."

 

John grinned and leaned in for one more quick kiss, lips dragging over Rodney's,  
pulling with him as they separated. "You're the genius, you figure it out."

 

"Youre insane. You know, two hours ago we were on the brink of death and now  
you molest me while I'm attempting to negotiate the most ludicrous"

 

Letting the monologue roll over him, John finished getting dressed, having less  
trouble with the rest of the outfit. Rodneys voice rose from a comforting buzz  
just as he was closing the last of the front panel fastenings; the snazzy little  
things that resembled high tech snaps were easy enough to handle.

 

"and let's not forget that I'm the only one that can recreate. oh"

 

"What?" John asked, worried. "Is my shirt showing?"

 

Rodney shook his head, mouth agape, and pulled at his arm until they were both  
standing in front of the mirror.

 

"Oh," John said, staring. "That's a little surreal."

 

"Yeah," Rodney agreed. "Maybe if you slouched it wouldn't be--"

 

"Have my ears been always this pointy?" John asked worriedly. He poked at them,  
feeling the tip of his finger trace along the shell. He folded it over and  
watched it spring back into place. It certainly acted like it had always been  
that way.

 

Rodney, mouth still open and staring nodded. "Yeah, they've always been sort  
of" he tilted his head from side to side, like the movement was part of the  
description, "pixie-ish."

 

"*Pixie-ish?" John looked at Rodney in the mirror with wide eyes. "And since  
when have your shoulders been so broad and was your hair always so sandy  
colored?"

 

"Maybe we're hallucinating?" Rodney looked a little feverish, eyes twitching.  
"Too much time here, maybe? Too much that's familiar, possibly some sort of  
psychosis."

 

Testing, John raised an eyebrow and then immediately put it away. "I don't know.  
Say 'Name your own price.'"

 

That broke Rodney out of his stupor to long enough to give John a withering  
look. "Only if you say 'Live long and prosper' first."

 

They both continued staring at their reflections until John's inner child got  
the better of him. He moved an eyebrow into the inclined position, and carefully  
separated the ring and middle finger of his left hand, creating a lopsided V.

 

Rodney got a good look in the mirror and then he shoved John violently to the  
side. He crossed his arms, tapped his foot and glared. "Are you trying to give  
me an aneurism? Because your survival instinct is so low I wouldn't be  
surprised."

 

John grinned at Rodney from where he'd landed on the floor. "Okay, now you look  
more like a gay--"

 

"Don't say it!"

 

"Come on, Rodney." John pushed himself up from the floor and tugged gently at  
the bottom of his jacket -- Rodney twitched, so John tugged again. "It's not  
like I'll be able to look them in the face any time soon either, but I think  
they're used to that."

 

Rodney harrumphed, but the tense posture of his shoulders relaxed. "Fine, but no  
kissing while we're wearing these things."

 

John put a companionable arm around Rodney's shoulders. "That's okay, kissing  
naked is better anyway."

 

For that, he got another elbow in the ribs.

 

 

******

They arrived at the briefing room at the tail-end of  
the damage reports and casualty estimates. When the number of the dead were  
tallied, John could feel the sudden indrawn breath from Rodney, who was standing  
behind him, just inside his personal space.

 

Kirk silently gestured for them to occupy the two empty seats while he finished  
off that section of the meeting. It wasn't long before the extraneous personnel  
were filing out, mute and tired and occasionally grime-streaked, engineering  
being the most notably dirty.

 

Rodney gave Scotty a respectful nod and John's chest swelled just a bit, warmed  
by the professional courtesy in ways he couldn't define.

 

Kirk's demeanor changed noticeably at the shift in subjects. His half-smile  
seemed forced, but genuine amusement poked through once he got a good look at  
their new clothes. "All you need is the metaphorical gold braid and no one would  
be the wiser."

 

"I believe," Spock said, looking unruffled from his seat despite all the  
excitement. "That while Dr. McKay's hair would pass muster, Lieutenant Colonel  
Sheppard's is not quite regulation."

 

Snickering from his right told John that Rodney was never going to let that go.  
He frowned, attempting to relax into the chair, frowning even deeper when the  
uniform wouldn't let him. "My hair is perfectly fine, thank you very much." He  
gave a sharp nod and a few strands bounced across his forehead.

 

Leaning forward, Rodney gave him a condescending shoulder pat. "While I can't  
account for its," he paused, obviously searching for the right word, "style, I'm  
pretty sure attempting to tame it would probably sprain something. Like his  
pride."

 

"See if I ever save you from being taken hostage again," John muttered, shooting  
Rodney a dirty look.

 

Rodney just looked smug. "I don't know, I'm getting pretty good with a P-90  
myself."

 

"Your lives," McCoy interrupted. "Are incredibly strange."

 

"Bones," Kirk said. "I don't think we should be ones to judge."

 

McCoy pointed a finger accusingly. "And for that, I blame you."

 

Kirk raised his hands in surrender, not looking at all surprised by the  
accusation. "Spock, how about you catch us up on those sensor readings?"

 

Spock's eyes scanned the room, possibly assessing the sanity of its occupants  
before he spoke. "I have switched the internal sensors from passive to active.  
They are doing constant sweeps, looking for energy readings similar to the ones  
they registered earlier." He called up a diagram; to Johns eyes, it resembled a  
football play.

 

Rodney nodded, already calling it up on the display closest to him. "Active will  
ensure we know where to look without having to chase after it with a tricorder?"

 

"Correct." Spock nodded. " Our sensors were not originally designed to look for  
this sort of field, but it will pinpoint to within two hundred meters. "

 

"That's better than narrowing it down to the entire ship." Rodney looked  
pleased, and some of the color that had been missing since the explosion was  
returning to his face. "Radek is very good at guessing into the dark. Assuming  
he hasn't blown himself or the equipment up, I suspect we'll be hearing from him  
again soon."

 

Kirk smiled, probably ready to get back to his routine. "You gentlemen will be  
home shortly. Let me know if there's anything you need. Until then, Dr. McKay,  
you can monitor the sensors from the secondary science station on the bridge."

 

Rodney's eyes went wide and sparkly, and John was worried he'd have to scrape  
him off the ceiling.

 

"The bridge?" Rodney's voice went high.

 

"The bridge." Kirk grinned, looking years younger as his delight at flustering  
Rodney took hold. "I've been meaning to invite both of you up there, but between  
a number of things, I haven't had the chance until now."

 

"The bridge?" Rodney asked again.

 

"Yes Rodney." John returned the condescending pat on the shoulder. "The bridge.  
You know, the big round space with the good view?"

 

Rodney nodded spastically. "Right the bridge."

 

"Try not to hyperventilate," John said as he stood. "You might faint."

 

"Pass out."

 

"Whatever."

 

******

 

John had to admit to a certain amount of awe when the turbolift doors opened,  
not that he'd ever admit that to Rodney, there'd be no fun in that. He took the  
station next to Rodney and some smiling Lieutenant came up to him informing him  
that Commander Chekov had arranged for a basic tutorial on the security and  
weapons station.

 

John was starting to like Kirk's crew more and more. He spent most of the shift  
destroying targets in increasingly complex and realistic simulations. The  
computer not only provided bogeys with differing capabilities, vectors, and  
weapons, but started adding in 'computer malfunctions' to the mix, testing his  
reflexes and personal computation abilities. The first time he lasted long  
enough to make it to that level of complexity, the computer flashed to an  
unofficial addition to the program, a high scoring list. Gleefully, John added  
his rank and initials.

 

He hadn't realized how much time had passed until he shifted in his seat and was  
reminded by some minor aches . He glimpsed at Rodney and found Rodney looking  
sour and tired. Apparently a duty shift on the bridge quickly lost its glamour.  
John glanced at the chronometer, hurting himself by doing the mental math to  
turn it into numbers he could relate to, and winced. Okay, maybe not so quickly.

 

John leaned over and spoke quietly. "You look disenchanted."

 

"Don't let my frown fool you, I'm actually having tons of fun sitting here and  
getting nothing." Rodney punched a few buttons. "What on Earth is taking so  
long?"

 

"Rodney, it's when youre happy that I worry."

 

"Not helping."

 

John smiled because something softened in Rodney's posture. Sometimes life was  
easy like that.

 

There was a beep, and Rodney sat up ramrod straight. John's heart thudded  
heavily in his chest. "Rodney?" The screen beeped again, and John could see  
Spock punching buttons furiously at his console several stations away.

 

"Gentlemen?" Kirk prompted.

 

"I think we have something," Rodney called, doing his own fair share of button  
pushing.

 

In the tense silence while the Spock and Rodney worked furiously, John's hands  
ached to do something, even if it was only loading a weapon.

 

"Got it!" Rodney exclaimed.

 

"As do I," Spock said.

 

John was already calling for the lift.

 

******

 

Rodney's stomach fluttered with excitement as the group of them ran to C deck,  
forward section. He was going home! Not that the Enterprise wasn't a fantastic,  
if mind-boggling place to visit, but he'd rather go back to a place where he  
could yell at people for getting real physics wrong, instead of accusing people  
of simply making it up, which he already did in Atlantis, but there he was sure  
of their wrongness, instead of just assuming.

 

He and Spock both had their tricorders out and-- okay, that still gave him a  
weird shiver-- were scanning like madmen. Or at least, he was. Spock was being  
pretty calm about the whole thing. John stood behind him fiddling with his shiny  
new phaser. Rodney hoped to god he actually knew how to use it..

 

They narrowed it down to a small patch of corridor, coincidently not very far  
off from the last time. By the time they rounded the last corner there was  
something gathering in the air, blocking their path. Momentarily overwhelmed by  
the crystal-like structure building and replicating before him, he forgot to  
take the readings.

 

"Is that what it looked like when we came through?" John asked, his voice  
subdued.

 

Spock nodded, eyes glued to his tricorder. "Eye-witness statements seem to  
coincide with what we are seeing."

 

"I knew Radek could do it," Rodney said.

 

"Don't worry," John said. "I won't tell him you said that."

 

Rodney chose not to reply and faked staring at the expanding thingy.

 

The structure stuttered and dimmed, and Rodney held his breath. "Come on, Radek,"  
he muttered. "Come on." Behind him, he could hear John muttering under his  
breath as well.

 

The structure brightened again and hope blossomed in his chest until finally  
something happened, changed infinitesimally, and he could see it had stabilized.  
He wasn't sure how he knew, but he knew.

 

"Should we go through?" Rodney asked when nothing happened for several seconds.

 

"I would not recommend it," Spock said nodding, still taking readings.

 

A shadow appeared, and Rodney was sure his heart had stopped. Then another  
shadow and a third and Rodney was tempted to grab John's hand, Which he didn't,  
because that would have been incredibly girl-like.

 

The first shadow solidified, its edges hardening, and Rodney had never been so  
glad in his life that he'd risked his well being that first week staring at  
Teyla's-- assets.

 

"Teyla," John whispered reverently.

 

Maybe they should have a little talk.

 

The second and third shadow melded into one, and for a quick moment Rodney was  
confused, but the one on the left had hair that could only be Radek's. As they  
approached, he realized that Radek and person number three must be carrying  
something between them. He narrowed his eyes, concentrating on what it could  
possibly--

 

A bright flash of light nearly blinded him. "I'm blind! Can anyone else see?"

 

"Just blink through it, Rodney," John encouraged from behind, sounding too  
jovial for someone having just been--

 

"Dr. McKay, Colonel Sheppard, it is good to see you again."

 

Teyla! "Teyla! Wonderful Teyla of the Amazon body and sultry voice!" He cracked  
his eyes open, and she looked appropriately, if dangerously, amused.

 

"Rodney." John elbowed him aside. "Your inner monologue is showing again."

 

He elbowed right back. "Shut up, I'm happy."

 

Teyla gave them the look that never failed to make Rodney feel like a  
five-year-old before she spoke into her radio. "Dr. Zelenka, Dr. Beckett, it is  
safe for you to come through."

 

"I would suggest you cover your eyes," Spock called from the side.

 

"Carson?" Rodney asked in confusion even as he looked away. He could make out a  
series of flashes from the corner of his eye, followed by a string of gibberish,  
sprinkled with recognizable gutturals and inflections. Hed never been so happy  
to hear it.

 

Carson's voice entered the mix, and Rodney took a chance and peeked, just in  
time to see the structure disappear without ceremony.

 

There was unabashed hugging, and Rodney would never admit it out loud but there  
had been a very real fear lurking deep inside that he'd never see any of his  
friends again, and while John was someone that made his heart pound and his dick  
very happy, he really missed physics.

 

Carson looked deliriously happy to see him. "We thought you'd died, man." Ah,  
that would explain it.

 

That's when he noticed Radek frozen off to the side. He poked John in the arm  
and gestured. "Radek, you okay?"

 

Radek nodded, eyes suspiciously wide, and for a moment Rodney was afraid Radek  
might start blubbering all over him and he really wasn't good with public  
displays of affection.

 

"You," he pointed at both of them, voice shaking, "are wearing," he coughed,  
"Enterprise uniforms." Then Radek just about lost it and slid to the floor,  
laughing hysterically.

 

Oh good god. There would be no living this down.

 

"Oh my lord."

 

That would be Carson registering his surroundings. Goody.

 

"Good thing we have a good supply of brandy on board," Kirk's voice piped u,p  
and Radek stopped laughing long enough get in a wide-eyed stare before he  
started laughing again.

 

"Might I suggest Dr. McCoy's special stock?" Spock came up beside Rodney, taking  
his tricorder and downloading the readings. "Your friend looks close to a  
psychotic episode."

 

"Radek is always a bit insane. It's part of what I like about him." Rodney  
sniffed and went to help Radek up.

 

"Rodney." Carson came to stand next to him, "if I hear one Dr. McCoy joke out of  
your mouth when we get back, you'll be getting the big needle."

 

Kirk gestured for them to move on down the corridor. "I knew some things would  
be able to cross any boundaries."

 

******

 

Zelenka eventually grew calmer, for which John was eternally grateful. After  
little sips of brandy, he was down to occasional small demented little giggles.

 

Someone apparently thought it'd be funny to invite Scotty into the meeting. The  
excuse that he was chief engineer and might be helpful was just a ploy, John was  
sure of it.

 

Beckett's accent got noticeably thinner, and his cheeks took on a pinkish hue  
the first time Scotty spoke. Scotty gave him a sheepish smile, poured him a  
hefty shot, and told him they'd 'show those toddlers how to drink.' A few  
sentences about the beauty of the Scottish countryside and their doctor was back  
to his own jovial, if shell-shocked, self.

 

They allowed a few minutes of pleasantries before getting down to the nitty  
gritty. Zelenka spewed forth several paragraphs of technical jargon that Rodney  
followed avidly. Spock and Scotty listened with weary eyes.

 

Apparently their original trip had been a consequence of too many things gone  
wrong. Theyd almost burnt out the equipment and it had taken Zelenka several  
days just to fix that and begin tests. After that it was a matter of assuring  
they hadn't perished in the initial run. Apparently there had been a long few  
days where they'd been assumed dead.

 

John made sure to plan on losing a lot of time to welcome home parties. He waved  
good bye to what little privacy he had, and peeked at Rodney sitting next to  
him. Rodney obviously hadn't figured that part out yet, he looked too cheerful.

 

John spent the technobabble explaining to Teyla what a lot of the fuss was  
about.

 

"A television show?" she asked, looking skeptical. "Is this not the Captain Kirk  
Rodney referred to during the incident with Chaya?"

 

John winced and nodded. "Yes."

 

"And he was a character on a television show?" she went on, still  
lookingextremely confused.

 

"Yes."

 

"Why did Rodney compare you to Captain Kirk?"

 

At that moment, the room had an unexpected lull. Her question practically echoed  
through the whole ship.

 

Kirk looked intrigued. "Dr. McKay compared you to me? Based on what?"

 

Before John could answer, Rodney spoke up, "He bagged the alien priestess on the  
first date."

 

McCoy nearly hurt himself not laughing.

 

John tried to sink under the table, all the while entertaining different  
scenarios in which Rodney died a painful and undignified death.

 

Kirk pursed his lips and nodded the nod of a man who knew when he shouldn't  
argue. He gestured to McCoy. "It's alright, Bones, let it out."

 

McCoy waved his hands, shaking his head. "Nu uh, I'm tucking that one away for a  
rainy day."

 

******

 

John was still imagining Rodney getting his karma on a few hours later while  
they were setting up the equipment Radek and company brought with them.

 

Carson stood back and traded professional courtesies with McCoy, who was giving  
him a laundry list of the items that were repaired on both John and Rodney, both  
pre-existing and those recently acquired.

 

McCoy had fixed a few of Rodney's long-term health issues, including some back  
troubles and the hypoglycemia. Unfortunately, the citrus allergy would have  
taken months of treatment; however McCoy had actually printed out a few pointers  
on how one might get started on that from scratch. John smiled at the floor at  
that. They were in enough danger from the unexpected; some change to the  
expected would be nice.

 

Scotty's brusque baritone raised above the others. "I don't care what you say;  
this is how it works here!"

 

Zelenka threw up his hands. "But that makes no sense!"

 

"That's what I've been saying!" Rodney yelled back.

 

The arguing quieted down to its original dull roar. Teyla stood next to him and  
looked on, amused.

 

"I am glad you two are none the worse for your adventure," she told him.

 

John had just opened his mouth to agree when Rodney throwing his hands up in  
disgust caught his eye, and he stopped. "We're good."

 

Teyla eyed him speculatively, but said nothing.

 

John let out a slow breath. There were a million things he and Rodney needed to  
sort out, not the least of which was the huge gaping wound they'd opened up and  
hadn't really dealt with. Rodney still gave him wide, scared looks that made  
John's chest clench and his throat bubble with promises he could never keep.  
They were leaving and there would be no chance to talk in what would be assured  
privacy for a long time.

 

 

For now though, Rodney seemed fine, in his element even, with Radek by his side  
and Spock and Scotty across from him spouting words with extra syllables.

 

Eventually they managed to make the technology work, and someone suggested they  
all bunk down for the night. John grimaced as some Yeoman delivered what was  
left of their things. He noticed what was at the bottom of the bin. Two  
tricorders and two phasers. John picked them up curiously and across the  
corridor, Kirk winked.

 

Nice.

 

John could see the time seeping away as the arguing lessened and the triumphant  
cheers increased. McCoy wandered into the fray. "Sheppard? McKay? Sickbay. I  
want to check my handywork before I send you back to your regular doctor."

 

John shrugged and gestured at Beckett. "You wanna come too, Doc?"

 

McCoy and Beckett must have shared some sort of psychic doctors moment because  
Beckett suddenly shook his head no. "I'll see you two soon enough and I got my  
tour earlier, during the beginning of the war." He gestured at the still working  
scientists.

 

"Right." Not looking away, he called to Rodney. "Come on, Rodney, Dr. McCoy  
wants to poke and prod one last time and who are we to deny him?"

 

******

 

They were led into sickbay with Rodney arguing the whole time about how he  
really should be back with Zelenka, making sure no one screwed up. He complained  
all the way past the usual exam beds and into the McCoy's private office.

 

"and god knows what they'll do if" Rodney finally faded off realizing  
something funny was going on. "Okay, now I'm confused."

 

John tried not to find Rodneys lack of observation skills endearing, and  
resolved to beat some survival instincts into him later. "So, Doc," he said  
casually. "Wanna let us in on the secret?"

 

McCoy did that 'I'm smiling because I know more than you' thing and shrugged. "I  
just thought you two would appreciate some privacy."

 

John's head snapped to attention as he turned his full focus on the doctor.  
"Excuse me?"

 

"Now, now." McCoy was looking incredibly smug, "Thereve been more than a few  
conversations between me and Spock that were a might revealing. You're not as  
suave as you like to think, and I," he tapped himself on the chest, "am a very  
observant fellow."

 

Rodney sputtered, but John kept resolutely silent. Holding hands in an empty  
lab, the flush of first orgasm still simmering in his veins was one thing, but  
going against years of sublimation was another.

 

"I'm an old man," McCoy went on, "and believe it or not, I've been there  
myself."

 

"What?" Rodney's voice went all high. "No, never mind, I don't want to know."

 

McCoy gave them an enigmatic smile and strolled out, letting the door close  
behind him.

 

John let the silence sink over them, momentarily wondering if they'd ever be  
able to keep it a secret on Atlantis. Then he looked over at Rodney, arms  
crossed, back turned, head bowed, and he knew theyd have to, because it'd be  
practically written on their faces if they ended it now. A fucking treatise of  
emotional diarrhea for anyone to read. If he was truly honest with himself,  
which he tried not to be on a regular basis, he didn't want to give Rodney up  
any more than it appeared Rodney wanted to give John up.Slowly he walked across  
the room, slid his arms around Rodney, and hooked his chin over Rodney's  
shoulder.

 

Rodney relaxed against him, leaning their heads together. "I'm not so good with  
the covert thing."

 

"Apparently neither am I." John pressed a kiss against Rodney's temple. "Look,  
we're not going to get a lot of alone time when we get back, not for a little  
while, but I have a feeling Beckett might be helpful."

 

"Carson?"

 

John blushed. "Assuming this goes to its logical conclusion someday, which I'd  
really like," he squeezed for emphasis making Rodney's breath catch in his ear,  
"he's likely figure it out pretty damn quick."

 

Rodney's flush felt warm against his cheek. "Ah, right. He'll probably--" Rodney  
stopped to clear his throat, "He'll probably be pretty okay with it."

 

Turning Rodney in his arms, John kissed him carefully and thoroughly, just in  
case there was a draught coming. Lips pressed together over and over, softly  
dragging across each other with careful swipes. Their tongues dipped in quickly  
for a taste, leaving behind a ghost of feeling.

 

"We should get back," John said roughly, breathing Rodney in. "This isn't  
supposed to be a full exam."

 

Rodney nodded against him and then peeled away. "Right, that's for later. When  
we have time."

 

Oh god, if Rodney ever perfected that coy look John would be dead.

 

They spent a quick thirty seconds trying not to look like they'd been making out  
in the doctor's office. McCoy's grin upon their emergence didn't give him much  
hope of their success, but no one else looked at them funny when they returned,  
so maybe it wasn't that bad.

 

The entire senior staff was there to see them off.

 

"Well, gentlemen, lady." Kirk smiled at Teyla who ducked her head and smiled  
back. John about had a heart attack at the weirdness of it all. "It's definitely  
been a trip. Safe travels to you and your people."

 

John offered his hand. "It's been an honor getting drunk with you." He nodded at  
the group standing in the background. "All of you."

 

Just before they were about to step through the crystalline structure, Zelenka  
looked at them and smiled brightly. "Can I be in the briefing in which you tell  
Elizabeth and Colonel Caldwell where you have been?"

 

John frowned and added Zelenka to his plans for Rodney's grisly death.

 

He turned one last time to see Kirk, Spock, McCoy and the others watching him  
leave. He gave them jaunty salute as they stepped into the light. "May the force  
be with you.

 

Rodney's pained groan could be heard through two universes.

 

 

THE END  
 

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the 'Amireal Found the Energy to Import her Fic' project. I've made sure it's all labeled correctly. For the most part, suggestions are welcome. Read through's for grammar and accidental double words haven't happened yet.


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